


Pheromone

by kawaii5lyfe



Series: Nodus Tollens [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Scent Kink, Scratching, Self-Hatred, Sexuality Crisis, Size Difference, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Build, Teen Angst, Texting, bokuken, self-kink shame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-09 19:44:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12283152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaii5lyfe/pseuds/kawaii5lyfe
Summary: Pheromonenoun | pher·o·mone |  \ ˈfer-ə-ˌmōn \: a chemical substance that is usually produced by an animal and serves especiallyas a stimulus to other individuals of the same species for one or more behavioralresponses-Sweat is disgusting. Kenma hates how sticky it makes his skin, and how the pungent scent of it varies from person-to-person. Watching droplets of sweat run down Bokuto’s face and limbs, covering his skin in a glossy shine before dripping to the floor makes Kenma cringe for reasons he doesn’t want to confess. Ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ((Updates on Fridays))

It’s hot. Whoever invented summer training camp needs to be fired. Kenma sighs. It’s a stupid thing to think because it makes sense logically in regards to the volleyball season, but he allows himself to feel inconvenienced. Kenma winces as he runs his hand through the slick at the base of his neck in a useless attempt to keep his hair from sticking to it. They’re barely into the first set against Fukuroudani and he knows that by the end of it he’s going to be red cheeked and soaked in his own sweat. Then they’ll play the second set, and it will only get worse, and Kenma groans at the idea of his compression shorts so wet that if he didn’t know better he would say he pissed himself.

“Oi, Kenma, stop spacing out.”   
  
Kuroo is glaring at him while wiping his panting mouth against his sleeve. Kenma frowns at him. He resents that Kuroo doesn’t look he’s suffering enough. His fringe was only a little bit matted against his forehead, and his skin looked dewy but not slick and Kenma sighed. He returned his his attention to the opposite side of net. His eyes flick from each opponent with what might appear to be analytical, judging by how Akaashi’s mouth presses into a firm line. Kenma doesn’t care about that. Well, he does, but he’s more concerned with how humid it is in the gym and it would annoy him if he was the only one wishing he could just melt unto the floor. Konoha looks like he’s suffering a little. It’s hard to tell really since his face always looks he’s irritated. Kenma watches as he tugs his shirt away from his body repeatedly to get some sort of relief from the heat pressing all around them, and then he’s shouting something over his shoulder to their #12 as he prepares for his serve.

Oh. Right. Volleyball.

Fukuroudani took the first set, though it was close. It took everything within Kenma not to yell in abject horror when sweat from Lev’s hair splashed onto his arm during a block. Perhaps he did shrink away, and maybe that _did_ cost them the set point but _honestly_ _how is it humanly possible for someone to sweat so much?!_ Lev is babbling besides him as they take long pulls from their water bottles, sweat dripping down his cheeks and just all around looking _moist_. Kenma shudders. Gross. Annoying. Gross and annoying.

Sweat really isn’t the worst of it. Kenma takes a physical step away from Lev. Maybe two, but not only does Lev sweat the most he also  _ stinks _ the most. Kai recently asked the team what they should do for Lev on his birthday to which Yaku immediately replied saying they should buy him deodorant. It isn’t like the behemoth doesn’t wear deodorant because Kenma has watched him apply it, but it doesn’t seem to stop him from smelling like he rolled around in a bag of onions. Kenma crinkled his nose as he chewed on the mouthpiece of his water bottle, eyes focused on the floor somewhere near Kuroo’s foot. 

Somewhere in the last two years of volleyball Kenma had developed the totally useless, and if he were being honesty totally distracting, ability to recognize his teammates by their smell; the regulars, anyway. Yaku’s powdery citrus smell was  _ almost _ undetectable. Kenma discovered that he need to be very close to pick it up. Not like he was exactly trying to smell Yaku, but he had noticed it when Yaku sat besides him on the team bus. Yamamoto was gamy but he hid it well under the clean linen scent of his deodorant. Fukunaga smelt like a dried up creek bed which was  _ almost _ as bad as Lev, but Kenma would take the stale earthy smell over garlic any day. Inuoka had a weird sort of salty smell that Kenma couldn’t compare to anything he’s ever smelt before and found it  _ incredibly annoying _ . Kuroo and Kai smelt similar, something woodsy and musky, something distinctly  _ male. _ A smell that made Kenma want to press his face into the dampest part of Kuroo’s shirt and inhale until his lungs hurt.

Kenma screws his eyes shut tight  feeling his cheeks heat up. It’s disgusting. Sweat is disgusting. Liking the smell of sweaty jocks who use spicy deodorant that mixed so  _ beautifully _ with their natural scent was disgusting.  _ He _ was disgusting. Kenma’s throat felt dry despite the amount of water he just drank. It wasn’t always like this. Kenma could distinctly remember a time when he didn’t bury his face in Kuroo’s sweat soaked jersey when he was pulled into team hugs after games just to take in the scent of his over worked body. He could remember a time when it didn’t make him  _ hard _ , but he couldn’t pinpoint when it started. It wasn’t like he wanted Kuroo like that. Kenma didn’t  _ want _ anyone like that, or so he thought until this whole smell thing happened. God, how did he become even more  _ embarrassing _ ? The call to return to the court made Kenma flinch. Right. Volleyball.

The amount of concentration Kenma had to force made his head hurt. His focus was set on the opposing team but he wasn’t really seeing their plays. He was distracted by the beads of sweat at Akaashi’s hairline, and idly wondering what he smelt like. Kenma moved on instinct to block with Lev when the toss was sent to Bokuto. When the Fukuroudani ace shouted for a toss it took Kenma a moment to realize that  _ was _ actually Japanese, and he  _ was _ yelling Akaashi’s name. It was annoying playing against him because he was loud, and moody, but worst of all his spikes  _ hurt _ . Maybe he could have shut down the spike using Lev as support. Maybe he could have tried to at least deflect the ball back to continue the rally. Maybe Kenma could have done a lot of things if he wasn’t distracted by the droplets of sweat flying from Bokuto’s arm, or the way his thighs flexed before launching himself for the toss.

Kenma huffed shaking his arms out to try to relieve the stinging to his skin. His brow creased as he watched Bokuto laughing, asking if Akaashi saw his spike, and stupid things like ‘aren’t I the coolest?’. Annoying. Tucking his hair behind his ear Kenma returned to his designated spot, eyes still glued to the opponents’ captain. He reminded Kenma of Hinata, though looking at Bokuto wasn’t like looking into the sun like it was with Hinata. Kenma swallowed against nothing as his eyes followed the course of a drop of sweat gliding down the tendon’s of Bokuto’s neck. His head was tilted back slightly as he talked (shouted???) with Akaashi, and Kenma mentally kicked himself for wondering what Bokuto’s sweat smelled like.

The rest of the match continued in that vein. Kenma becoming increasingly distracted by gold eyes partially hidden behind heavy lids, of the severe arch of pale eyebrows, of wide toothy grins. Kenma hated that he was noticing things about Bokuto that didn’t pertain to volleyball. Kenma tipped his head back and sighed at the ceiling.  _ Annoying _ .

“Kenma!” Kuroo’s shout makes his head hurt so he closes his eyes. “Pull yourself together, or I’ll make you sprint that hill twice!”

A whine threatens to claw it’s way out of Kenma’s mouth. He can’t bring himself to look at Kuroo. He knows the moment he does his childhood friend is going to pick up on that something is bothering him. The idea of telling Kuroo what that  _ something _ is, that he’s thinking how he wants to slink under the net and nuzzle his face in Bokuto’s armpit, sounds one hundred times worse that having to run that “refreshing” hill twice.

“I’m tired.” is all Kenma chooses to say.

Kuroo is saying something but he doesn’t hear it. Kenma returns his gaze to the opposite side of the net pointedly not looking at the ace. Thankfully Yaku is able to recover one of Bokuto’s spikes and Kenma passes it to Lev since he’s been practically vibrating for a toss and Kai is pinned down. The sound of of the ball slamming against the courts is met with cheers from his teammates and it makes him feel more tired somehow. Points are exchanged, an easy almost dull rhythm starts much to Kenma’s relief. He can focus better when it's monotonous. The opponents tend to use their more well practiced plays during rhythm like these. He isn’t surprised when Bokuto shouts for a toss, and he isn’t caught off guard when Kuroo is suddenly at his side preparing for a 3 man block. What does throw Kenma off is the wind Bokuto creates with the strength he hits the ball. He catches a whiff of it, of a smell  _ one hundred percent Bokuto _ and Kenma knows he’s screwed for the rest of the match.

Everything seems to slow down. Kenma doesn’t register the stinging in his forearm, or if they shut out the ball or not. It feels like ages before his heels come back in contact with the floor. His breath catches in his throat and his brain is buzzing as it tries to decipher the information his sinuses just sent it. Clove. Cardamom. Sage maybe. And something that must belong only to Bokuto, something heady and masculine that awakens something feral deep in Kenma’s animal brain. Bokuto is grimacing, hooded eyes glaring and that’s when it finally clicks that they were able to block out his spike. Kenma’s heartbeat is loud in his ears and he wonders if anyone else can hear it. He releases a shuddering breath, wide eyes still fixed on the ace opposite him. He’s yelling at Kuroo who is snickering but Kenma is too distracted by his new discovery, and the drop of sweat clinging precariously to Bokuto’s chin to care.

He doesn’t blink when Bokuto’s eyes find his. The taller boy jolts in surprise, and Kenma can only imagine he’s using what Kuroo calls his ‘Pounce and Kill’ expression. God. What a stupid thing to say. Kuroo is stupid. He finally blinks when Bokuto leans toward the net with a sneer so wide it might be read as malicious. Unconsciously Kenma inhales through his nose.

“Oho ho! What’s this? Is Kenma finally getting into it?” the lit to Bokuto’s tone is just as devious as his grin.

_ Yeah, I’m into it _ .

At the sudden bark of laughter from Bokuto, Kenma realizes a little too late that he said that outloud and he just wants to  _ fucking die _ . It gets worse when Kuroo grabs him by the shoulder and gives him a couple firm shakes shouting something like ‘it’s about damn time’, and Lev is yelling, maybe shrieking but it all just sounds like noise. The sting from the spike starts to radiate up his arm and down to his fingertips, and Kenma swears his blood just turned to ice in his veins. He wants to leave. He  _ needs _ to leave. Kuroo is dragging him back to his spot and to his horror Kenma notices just how tight his compression shorts have become.  _ Disgusting _ . He really was a filthy degenerate, wasn’t he?

In the end they lost to Fukuroudani but thankfully Kuroo didn’t make Kenma run the hill an extra time. He was looking forward to having some time to himself, to decompress and just be  _ alone _ . It didn’t happen. Hinata, who Inuoka invited in their classroom Nekoma was using as a dorm,  wanted to know more about Lev. The two boys plopped down besides Kenma, and if it had been anyone else Kenma would have just walked away. Hinata was the personification of the sun, and despite being boisterous he made Kenma feel at ease. He was able to forget about rippling thighs, and sweaty clavicles and forbidden musky scents.

Until he wasn’t, which is why he found himself squinting at the bright glare of the vending machine like it personally offended him at 3:15 am.

Kenma emitted a long, slow sigh as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the machine. Sleep had come in bits and pieces, and when he was awake the nagging urge to infiltrate into the room Fukuroudani was using and getting a proper sniff of their ace’s scent made him warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the humidity. Kenma swallowed around nothing, biting his bottom lip until the tangy state of copper dribbled into his mouth. He hated that he was like this. Of all the things about a person that could have enticed Kenma into arousal, his body decided that it was going to be  _ fucking body order _ . Talking about turn-ons or kinks or whatever wasn’t something that Kuroo and he did like he assumed other best friends might. He knew Kuroo wasn’t a virgin, knew that he was bisexual, and that he considered himself pretty adventurous. Kenma remembered feeling a little bit jealous of Kuroo when he told him his orientation because he felt like it must be a nice feeling to know yourself without any doubts.

He sighs again, forehead still pressed against the vending machine. He can hear the shuffling of tired footsteps and he wonders if it’s one of the teachers or another lost soul -oh  _ god, _ now really, he was just being dramatic- that needed some sort of relief from the sticky classrooms.

There’s a snort and Kenma holds his breath. “Did you fall asleep?”

Kenma keeps his eyes shut as his heart pounds so hard in his chest he’s sure it’s going to break through his ribs. Even with the raw edges of sleep clinging to the tones Kenma knows the voice belongs to Bokuto.

“...I can’t decide what I want.” Kenma answers softly, voice muffled against the glowing plastic. It’s true. He  _ really _ wants the calpis but he can hear Kuroo lecturing him about empty carbs and sugars in a way that sounds correct but might also be wrong. Annoying.

He feels Bokuto sidle up next him, can feel his body heat mere centimeters from his arm. Kenma wants to inhale deeply to see if he can pick up traces of that tantalizing scent he experienced yesterday. He doesn’t.  Instead Kenma finally leans back, rubbing at the pressure mark on his forehead with his fingertips while chancing a glance at the ace. Bokuto’s hair is relaxed, presumably after washing the copious amounts of styling gel out of it, and there’s bobbi pins holding  some of it in place from falling into his face. His arms are crossed over his chest, eyes are barely focused on the vending machine, and eyelids drooping more than usual from the vestiges of sleep. It takes a considerable amount of effort for Kenma to keep his breaths from rushing past his lips as his eyes follow the massive swell of Bokuto’s biceps. Kenma is startled by the sudden yawn from the taller boy.

“Something with electrolytes.” Bokuto says after, sliding his eyes to Kenma.

Annoying. Kenma frowns at him before returning his attention back to the drink selection. He hears Bokuto snicker besides him and he watches him unfold his arms to place his hands on his hips from the corner of his eyes.

“Just get the damn juice. He won’t know.” over the faint hum of the machine Bokuto’s voice sounds loud despite the fact that he’s whispering in the quiet hallway.

Kenma’s frown deeps, brows pulled low. He didn’t want to think too hard on how Bokuto knew he was hesitant because of Kuroo. “He’ll know.”

Kenma chooses water and ignores the amused smirk Bokuto gives him. As he turns away, fully prepared to say goodnight and retreat to his blanket cocoon on the second floor when he catches that scent again. Clove. Cardamom. Something earthy, and something  _ dangerous _ underneath the soft scent of soap. Kenma feels rooted to the spot, eyes wide as heat floods his face. He can tell Bokuto is tense besides him but Kenma doesn’t look. The inner battle between self control is losing against that deep seeded carnal  _ need _ fueled by sleep deprivation to get as much of Bokuto’s scent on him as possible.

“Uh, Kenma?” Bokuto’s sounds off from the tension bleeding into his voice. There’s something else there that Kenma can’t quite put his finger one.

There’s a feather light touch of calloused finger tips on the inside of his left wrist, and Kenma blinks realizing he wound his fist around something. He swallows audibly slowly dragging his eyes from the wall to his hand he didn’t recall giving the permission to grab a handful of Bokuto’s shirt at his waist.  _ Shit _ . It feels like all the breath in Kenma’s lungs has left leaving him light headed and out of control. All he can do is stare at his hand tangled in Bokuto’s shirt as he turns, and gently encircles his strong fingers around Kenma’s slim wrist.

“I’m sorry.” Kenma breathes, the sensation of skin-on-skin igniting a fire in his veins.

Finally Kenma lifts his gaze to Bokuto’s face. There’s no judgement there, much to Kenma’s relief. Bokuto’s eyes look strange illuminated only by the light of the vending machine. His eyes are just as wide as Kenma imagines his look. He looks… bewildered, Kenma guesses. Kenma so desperately wants to run away. Instead he turns slightly and pulls himself into Bokuto using his hand in the ace’s shirt as leverage.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers again, feeling the sting of tears behind his eyes because this is  _ so fucking embarrassing _ .

Nether of them speak a word when Kenma presses his forehead in Bokuto’s chest. He’s  _ warm _ , and he smells so  _ goddamn good _ . Bokuto’s fingers slip away from Kenma’s wrist and he immediately misses them. Another thing to add to his list of things that make him a gross human being. He can feel how fast Bokuto’s heart is beating. Kenma wonders if it’s his fight-or-flight instinct causing it to hammer against his ribcage. He wonders if Bokuto is struggling with himself to run or hit Kenma. Squeezing his eyes shut tight Kenma presses his face further into the cushion of Bokuto’s pectorals. Part of him is telling Kenma that it’s worth any sort of physical harm to be able to be this close to such a perfect scent of pure masculinity. The other part, however, chastises him for being a piece of flaming garbage with a disgusting kink. He might be shivering but he isn’t sure.

Bokuto’s scent isn’t as sharp as it had been on the court, no sour twang of sweat to highlight the basenotes under his natural spiciness. Kenma slowly unfurls his fist from the straining fabric and presses his fingertips against the muscle of Bokuto’s stomach. He isn’t being gentle but the pressure he’s applying isn’t all that hard. It’s firm enough to be able to feel the canals between his abs, the crest of his rib cage, the faint inward curve of his side as Kenma slides his fingers steadily to Bokuto’s side. The hum of the vending machine and their breathes and the blood rushing in his ears is all  _ too loud _ for Kenma. He’s tired and his body hurts but it isn’t from the training the day before and the thought  _ does _ make him shiver.

He hears the gentle rustle of fabric moving, and he can feel Bokuto lift his arm. Kenma holds his breath mind scrambling to come up with as many possible reasons to what Bokuto plans to do, why he  _ hasn’t said anything _ this whole time. He tenses when Bokuto lays his hand on his head. Kenma’s lungs ache from needing to breathe but he’s too focused on that strong hand curving over the base of his skull, the brush of a calloused thumb against the shell of his ear before settling against his pulse point just beneath his jaw. The breath Kenma was holding leaves through his parted lips and he shudders. It feels good. The combined warmth of Bokuto’s body, the weight of his hand, his  _ scent _ makes Kenma lightheaded and he wonders what it would be like to fall asleep wrapped up in everything that is purely Bokuto. Kenma swallows thickly. What a stupid thought.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Bokuto asks, startling Kenma from his thoughts.

Seduce? It takes a moment for Kenma’s fevered brain to remember what that word  _ means _ , and his hand flies away from Bokuto’s side as if it scalded him before he’s scrambling away from the taller boy. Bokuto looks amused but it’s softer and Kenma makes himself believe that it’s because it’s the middle of the night and he’s just tired. Kenma knows he’s blushing, he knows Bokuto can see it even in the limited lighting and every fiber in his body is telling him to leave. Like,  _ immediately _ . He tries to take a step back but his arm tugs to keep in him place, and it’s just then that Kenma has realized Bokuto had caught his wrist. His skin feels hot, and it  _ feels good _ . His gaze flicks from the hand around his wrist to the vending machine, the stairs over Bokuto’s shoulder and then to Bokuto’s face. The corners of his mouth were pulled down in a slight frown, a brow arched as he stares at Kenma.

“Oi,” Bokuto’s voice was above a whisper and both boys winced. When he continued it was much softer. “Are you alright?”

“No.”

It was the truth but Kenma was stunned by his own honesty. He felt so tired. He could hear it in the breathlessness of his voice, the ache in his shoulders, the way he relaxed in Bokuto’s grip. It felt like all the strength had been sapped from his body. He sighed in resignation, dropping his gaze to Bokuto’s hand around his wrist. His grip was firm but it didn’t hurt. Kenma lifted his fingers to brush his knuckles against the thin skin of Bokuto’s inner arm. It was smooth, and not as soft as his own skin but not exactly course either. In his peripheral vision he could see Bokuto’s head dip slightly presumably to look at where their skin was touching.

“...Do you wanna talk about it?” whispered Bokuto, and Kenma would detect a sort of gravely note to it.

A strange calmness settled in Kenma’s bones. He slid his eyes to Bokuto’s and didn’t flinch at how wide his pupils were blown. The gold of his irises a thin ring illuminated strangely in the limited light. His gaze was  _ hungry _ . Kenma’s breath caught in his throat. The tension that hung between them was palpable. It ghosted over Kenma’s skin like static, making heat pool low in his stomach, making him  _ want _ things he didn’t have the words for. He wondered if his own eyes looked like Bokuto’s.

“I don’t want to talk.” Kenma’s voice was so soft he wasn’t sure Bokuto had heard it.

There was implication there. Purposeful or not, Kenma used it as a test. He was testing Bokuto to see how he would react, but he was also testing himself. With this strange calmness came an equally strange confidence leaving him wondering if he’d follow through with whatever happened next. He could see Bokuto thinking, mapping the way his eyes flicked to Kenma’s mouth, his throat and back to his eyes. His chest was heaving with each silent, deep breath. Kenma blinked at the grin sliding across Bokuto’s face, slow like ink in water. Somewhere there’s a part of him that’s screaming but all Kenma can focus on is how Bokuto leans into his space. He watches his eyes flutter shut before his face is close, his breath ghosting over Kenma’s lips and  _ now _ he’s really trembling.

He pretends he isn’t disappointed that their lips don’t touch when Bokuto moves his mouth to Kenma’s cheek, and drags his slightly chapped lips up and over his cheekbones. The tantalizing heady scent of Bokuto’s skin is oppressive and Kenma has to fight the urge to drop his water bottle in favor of grabbing the back of Bokuto’s head so he can press his face into his neck. Kenma feels heavy, and his finger tips are tingling and he’s warm.  _ Too warm _ . He tilts his head down a fraction, shivering at the feeling of Bokuto’s mouth against his temple. He isn’t peppering Kenma’s skin with kisses, just dragging his lips sensually over it. Kenma swallows. He knows he’s hard before his eyes pass over the small tent in his sleep shorts. Bokuto releases his wrist, and Kenma glances at the limb returning to his side. His lips are ghosting over Kenma’s hairline and Kenma  _ swears _ he hears Bokuto inhale deeply. Heat floods his body at the thought that just maybe Bokuto smelled him and his brain can’t possibly process anything that’s happen any more because he just noticed the  _ bulge _ in the ace’s shorts.

_ Fuck. _

Bokuto sighing makes Kenma flinch, the heat of his breath on his skin cause goosebumps to run up his arms.

“Kuro’s gonna be pissed if you don’t get some sleep.” Bokuto’s words are almost absorbed into Kenma’s hair, but he can detect a smile there.

He doesn’t look up when Bokuto is pulling away. He doesn’t look when their arms brush when Bokuto walks past him. He doesn’t turn to watch him disappear down the hall. Somehow his is able to urge his leaden limbs into motion and Kenma climbs the stairs to the second floor, and returns to his temporary dorm. The water remains unopened besides his phone while Kenma pulls the blanket over his head, mind reeling with everything that transpired in the last 20 minutes. The last thing that goes through his head before he’s dragged into exhausted unconsciousness is that he is 100% absolutely, positively,  _ screwed _ .


	2. Chapter 2

Kenma was the last person to wake up from Nekoma. He had coiled himself tighter in his blanket cocoon when the curtains were thrown open, and when Lev prodded him with his bony fingers he might have actually hissed. His head hurt, and his joints ached from the lack of proper sleep but that paled in comparison to the amount of psychological pain he felt over the events that transpired mere hours before. He  _ touched _ Bokuto. He put his  _ face _ in Bokuto’s stupid muscled  _ chest _ . Bokuto touched him with his  _ mouth _ on his  _ face _ . And even though he tried to convince himself that he didn’t like it there was a part of Kenma that pointed out he might have really enjoyed it. The ghost of Bokuto’s dry lips still tingled against his cheekbone, the warmth of his body and how  _ good _ he smelled left Kenma wanting and it made him sick. As his consciousness started to drip back into sleep he almost convinced himself that it was a dream, that there was no way Bokuto’s eyes really looked like that or he was also hard at Kenma’s lack of self control.

It was a short lived delusion because Kuroo hunched over him, and teasingly cooed at Kenma for being a tiny sleepy kitten. He almost elbowed Kuroo in the face as he flailed out of the blanket.

Suddenly, Bokuto Koutarou meant something other than friendly rival, and Kenma wasn’t sure if he liked it. The rapidity of it left Kenma feeling dizzy and he  _ hated _ how uncomfortable it made him feel. He couldn’t recall even having a proper conversation with the Fukuroudani ace despite the amount of times Kurou dragged him to hang out outside of practice matches. During those times he and Akaashi would exchange impassive looks while telepathically communicating ‘free us’ when Kuroo and Bokuto started to act like idiots; which never took long. Never during any of those times did Kenma notice that Bokuto’s pout was enduring in an annoying sort of way, or that he was kind of handsome when his mouth wasn’t screwing it up. Kenma noticed people for the sake of self preservation, and to ensure his team’s victory. Never to  _ notice _ notice people.

Kenma couldn’t ever recall having a crush on someone. He recognized if someone was attractive in a clearly observational sense, but it was never more than a mental note of ‘cute’ or ‘pretty’ or ‘okay looking’. Exhaling slowly into a hip stretch he turned his head slightly to watch Kuroo chat with their coach. Kuroo fell into the category of ‘okay looking’. He was popular with girls, and Kenma figured it wasn’t because he was smart -because he was- but because humans are fickle, and vain creatures. Kenma had always thought his genuine smile was nice, but he didn’t want to do  _ things _ with Kuroo. Well, aside from smelling his sweat soaked jersey, but he didn’t want to have Kuroo touch him in inappropriate ways. Switching the stretch to the other leg Kenma switched his gaze to Hinata. Hinata was cute, like a rambunctious puppy, but Kenma didn’t want to hold him. Maybe give him a hug, be definitely not cling to him like a koala. Kenma sat up and slid his legs open into a straddle stretch, wincing a little at the stretch. His gaze flicked to Shinzen’s manager -what was her name again?- and concluded that she was pretty, but he felt nothing whatsoever when he looked at her.

With a frown Kenma exhaled into a stretch, crawling his fingers across the floor as he stretched between his legs. He slid his gaze to the opposite side of the court to where Bokuto was talking with his team. Kenma’s eyes traced the length of his nose, the line of his smile and his high cheekbones. His cheeks heated up as his gaze dropped to Bokuto’s broad chest, large hands at his hips and lingering on his thighs. Bokuto didn’t fit into Kenma’s categories of cute, pretty or okay looking. Bokuto had forged a category of his own and Kenma grimaced at the realization. Bokuto was  _ hot _ . It was annoying and distracting. Bokuto’s head tilted up a fraction before his keen eyes found Kenma’s. The heat that had started to build beneath his skin was quickly washed away by cold dread at being caught staring. He quickly shifted his gaze to Akaashi, then to Konoha and Sarukui in a vain attempt to make it look like he was sizing up Fukuroudani instead of ogling their ace.

He had been pointedly avoiding looking at Bokuto all morning, which made Kenma all the more appalled at being caught in his blatant staring. It turned out to be more difficult than he imagined since he could feel the ace’s presence like sunlight on his skin. Every time Fukuroudani’s ace would shout, or laugh Kenma’s ears tuned everything out to focus on the sound. Every time Bokuto shifted in his seat at breakfast had Kenma’s eyes trained on him. It was difficult not to openly stare at Bokuto as he ran warm-ups with his team. Kenma’s heart sped up thinking of the places where sweat collected; behind the knees, sternum, lower back, armpits. His gut twisted painfully, a wave of nausea passing through Kenma, hating himself for wanting to taste those places on Bokuto’s body. Kenma pulled his legs in as he leaned out of his stretch and pushed himself to his feet, chancing another glance at the ace. He flinched, feeling his eyes going wide as he watched Bokuto’s gaze skirt over his body with narrowed eyes and a smirk that made Kenma’s heart do flips in his chest. Bokuto rolled his shoulders as he returned his attention back to his team without meeting Kenma’s eyes, and it left Kenma wondering if he maybe misinterpreted they way he was just looking at him.

That look haunted Kenma for the rest of the day. Luckily he was able to push it to the back of his mind during matches but it would quickly rush to the forefront of his mind during the lulls between games or during meals. No matter how Kenma tried to approach it he came to the only conclusion that made sense: Bokuto had blatantly checked him out. He inwardly reprimanded himself for feeling excited about the possibility that Bokuto might also find him appealing. It didn’t make any sense for reasons Kenma felt were obvious. Bokuto was more of an acquaintance than a friend, a charismatic rival that was loud and obnoxious, and needlessly dramatic. He and Kuroo seemed more like best friends than he was himself. The thought made Kenma’s chest hurt. Kuroo seemed more like Bokuto’s type even though he didn’t have any real frame of reference for that thought.

Compared to Kuroo, Kenma might as well be an insignificant speck in the universe. Kuroo was tall, and maybe a little bit more than ‘okay looking’, and was all lean muscle and approachable. Kenma was, well, not any of those things. He had been called cute by his female classmates but he didn’t see it. He figured he was reasonably fit for being in an athletics club but he still had small patches of stubborn fat that clung to his hips and his inner thighs. He also hated people. Hate was a strong word but he tried to avoid interacting with people more than necessary. Not to mention that there was a very good chance that Kuroo didn’t get off on the smell of sweat soaked bodies. He wasn’t a disgusting piece of trash like Kenma. There’s no way Bokuto would want him over someone like Kuroo.

“Oya oya? Are you trying to drown your water bottle?”

Bokuto’s voice startled Kenma who had been absentmindedly filling his water bottle while his thoughts ran away from him. He flicked his large eyes from Bokuto’s amused expression to his overflowing water bottle and the cool water rushing over his hand. Kenma’s throat felt dry and he swallowed with difficulty as he glanced around. Shinzen was running the hill, Ubugawa and Karasuno’s managers were filling water bottles at the other fountain, and Kuroo was talking with Akaashi just inside the gym door. He wasn’t necessarily alone with the ace but he couldn’t get his heart rate under control. He felt his face flush and he tilted his head down so his hair curtained it from view.

“Uhm,” Kenma’s voice was quiet, his gaze skirting between his fingers turning off the tap and Bokuto as he crouched besides him. “Not really.”

Grimacing a little at how lame his response was Kenma bites his lip while screwing the lid back onto his water bottle. He watches Bokuto fill his own bottle from the corner of his eye, appreciating the tendons in his hand flex with movement. The memory of how those hands felt on his wrists have heat tingling at the base of Kenma’s spine. That animal part of his brain is telling him to taste the air, to breathe in deep to catch Bokuto’s heady scent. Kenma’s breath shudders as he watches the ace’s lips wrap around the mouthpiece of his water bottle with a perverse fascination. They looked nothing like how they felt on his skin. They looked soft and pliant and  _ wet _ as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth to catch stray droplets of water. Kenma wets his lips subconsciously.

“You know, if I didn’t know better I’d say you wanted to ask me something.” Bokuto’s tone was low enough for just the two of them to hear.

Kenma flinched, leaning away slightly as Bokuto smirked at him. Did he want to ask Bokuto something? He briefly wondered how he would react if Kenma out right asked if he could press his face into his armpit. He felt a stirring in his loins at the thought. Instead Kenma shook his head so quickly his hair fluttered.

Bokuto hummed, a brow arching. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re cute when you're embarrassed?”

Fire exploded beneath Kenma’s skin and he was certain he was going to burst into flame. He dropped his water bottle, eyes going impossibly wide as he stared at Bokuto. He must have misheard. There was  _ no way _ Bokuto just complimented him. Cute.  _ Cute? _ He had to be making fun of him. Kenma blinked, his brow furrowing as he picked up his water bottle with trembling hands.

“Wh-what does that even mean?” asked Kenma, not looking at the ace.

“It  _ means _ I wish I kissed you last night.”

Kenma was sure he just gave himself whiplash with how fast his head jerked around to look at Bokuto.  _ FUCK _ . He wasn’t looking at Kenma anymore. The mouthpiece of his water bottle poised at Bokuto’s pouting mouth like he might take a drink and there was a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. Kenma’s heart leapt into his throat. He felt numb and his brain short circuited which left him staring wordlessly at the boy besides him.

“It means I’d kiss you now if I wasn’t so sure you’d deck me.” Bokuto mumbled, sounding a little sullen.

Leaning further away Kenma nearly toppled over. Bokuto looked over as Kenma scrambled to his feet. This was a joke, right? It had to be. Blood rushed in his ears. He was imagining this. Right? He watched Bokuto push himself to his feet, eyes flicking down to appreciate the flexing of his thighs. There was no way that  _ anyone _ let alone  _ Bokuto _ , a Top 5-tier ace, with his attractive stupid face and his dumb chiseled body would want to ever waste his breath talking to someone so  _ insignificant _ like Kenma let alone kiss him, so--

“Why?” The word tumbled from Kenma’s lips before he realized it.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle the answer. If their positions were switched Kenma wasn’t even sure he could give Bokuto an answer to why he wanted to roll around in his natural musk. Kenma couldn’t even give an answer to that question to himself. Actually, that was a lie. He was an embarassing kid with a disgusting kink, that’s why. Kenma watched as Bokuto fidgeted, gold eyes flicking from his and away several times in a way that made Kenma think he was feeling self conscious. It was a complete 180 from his smug attitude a moment ago, reminding Kenma of all of his emotional outbursts on the court. Head tilting slightly Kenma felt curiosity winning over the whirlwind of shock, shame and horror currently raging inside him. His gaze narrowed as he watched Bokuto look away, his free hand rising to rub at the back of his neck.

“You can’t just look at a guy like that, like you want to…”

Kenma blanched.  _ S h i t _ . Bile burned the back of his throat, cold sweat making the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. His eyes dropped to watch Bokuto’s adam's apple bob when he swallowed thickly before continuing.

“Of course I’m gonna wanna kiss you after that.” His gaze swept to Kenma’s and he flinched at how intense it was. “And you finally looked back so…”

What.

For the second time Kenma felt his brain power down, his mouth falling open as he squinted at Bokuto.  _ He _ looked back?  _ Looked back? _ What the hell?

“I…” Kenma’s tongue felt heavy, making the words feel clumsy as he spoke. “Looked back.” It was a meant as a question but it came out as a statement.

The flush that spread across Bokuto’s face reached his ears and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, averting his gaze again with a slight nod. He looked wound tight, tension pulling at his broad shoulders, clutching his water bottle in a white knuckled grip.  _ What the hell? _ There was no reason for Bokuto to be so tense. It wasn’t like he was the one having inappropriate thoughts or had been caught--.

A weight dropped in the pit of Kenma’s stomach as realization dawned on him, and he felt himself blush bright pink.

“B-Bokuto, did you, was that a conf-?”

“NO!” Bokuto squawked, eyes wide as he gesticulated rapidly. “N-No, I just meant--!”

“I’m not looking for an emotional commitment!” Kenma blurted out shaking his head, the speed of it leaving him a little light headed. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes impossibly large.

For a moment Bokuto looked just as stunned as Kenma felt but it was quickly replaced by a sort of embarrassed relief. He see-sawed his free hand between them as if he were waving away smoke.

“N-neither am I, I only meant if you wanted, well, I mean I wouldn’t mind if we--!”

Kenma didn’t get to hear what else Bokuto had to say, wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself from running away if he had, when Kuroo’s voice startled both boy’s attention away from each other.

“Oi, what are you two yelling about over there?”

Yelling _? _ They were  _ yelling _ ??? Kenma panicked wondering how much of their conversation was heard, gaze skirting from Kuroo’s amused expression to Akaashi’s usual impassiveness. Kuroo’s grin widened and Kenma felt like he might just throw up right there.

“Bo, I told you you can’t just ask Kenma to toss for you openly like that. You’ll make Akaashi jealous.” Kuroo snickered, earning an annoyed glance from the setter besides him.

“I won’t.” said Akaashi.

Bokuto erupted in almost unintelligible shouts in the veins of ‘Akaashi how could you’ and ‘Kuroo you’re the one who would be jealous’. Kenma released the breath of 20 men as relief flooded cold in his veins. If Kuroo and Akaashi had heard neither one of them were letting on, and that suited Kenma just fine. He swallowed against the lump of anxiety in his throat as he forced his body into motion, thankful that no one called after him as he walked away.

_ I only meant if you wanted, well, I mean I wouldn’t mind if we-! _

If we, what? Kenma grabbed his chest, clutching his shirt in a tight grip over his heart. He felt anxious, but it was different than the anxiety that stiffened his joints and left him in a breathless panic. It felt similar to excitement but didn’t thrum as intensely through his veins. It simmered like baked asphalt under the relentless summer sun. The feeling stuck with him throughout the rest of the day. Kenma continued to replay the words through his head, trying to come up with the rest of the sentence that didn’t involve Bokuto admitting he wouldn’t mind touching Kenma. A full body shiver wracked his body at the thought and he nearly dropped his chopsticks. It was dinner and he was sitting with Hinata and Lev, and some of the other Karasuno team.

“Ah! Are you alright, Kenma-san?” Lev rounded on him like a worried mother. “You’re not getting a cold are you?”

Kenma frowned at him, defensively lifting his elbow to prevent Lev from leaning further into his space.

“I’m not. Don’t fuss over me, it’s weird.”

Lev laughed cheerily, his smile beaming as he returned to inhaling his food. Kenma crinkled his nose while he watched him for moment suddenly feeling less hungry. He sighed, forcing himself to finish what he had left because feeling overly full was better than Kuroo lecturing him on how he needed to eat more. Eat more, and eat properly. Gaze snaking across the cafeteria he found his captain’s back at a table full of third years. Well, third years plus Akaashi. He was sitting at the end of the table across from Bokuto and Akaashi, fingers tracing the rim of his glass absentmindedly as he talked. Kenma watched the corners of Akaashi’s mouth twitch up in a small smile, his gaze sliding from Kuroo to Bokuto, and said something that made the ace squawk. Bokuto glared at Akaashi, his voice not reaching Kenma over the din in the room. He licked his lips and the quick dart of his pink tongue had Kenma pressing his thighs together. Swallowing audibly Kenma willed his heart to calm, forcing his thoughts not to stray into forbidden territory. He would never forgive himself if he got a hard on in the middle of dinner surrounded by so many people.

_ I wouldn’t mind if we--! _ Kenma pulled his phone from his pocket. Wouldn’t mind, what? He needed to know. Even if it turned out to be some sort of sick joke, Kenma wanted to know what Bokuto was about to say. He needed to, other wise it would eat away at what remaining self control he had left. Kenma pulled open his LINE app and scrolled through until he found Bokuto’s contact. He quickly typed out his message and sent it before he lost his nerve.

**applepi:** if we what?

Nerves coiled tightly in his stomach and Kenma instantly regretted sending it. There was no do-over, no respawn, no ctrl-z to take back the message. It had already left the super information highway and was probably already flashing a notification on Bokuto’s phone and the thought made Kenma want to retch. He stood abruptly, startling the others at the table, gathered his tray and excused himself. Pointedly not looking in the direction of the third year table Kenma willed his hands to stop shaking as he bussed his tray. It also took a considerable amount of effort not to run from the room, or jump 5 feet in the air when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He didn’t expect an answer so soon. His chest constricted painfully, his palms began to sweat and his breathing rushed past his parted lips like he had just gone for a jog. With a forced calm he directed his steps to leave the building, and didn’t stop until he was safely out of view before gulping lungs full of air. It was difficult to keep his breathing measured but passing out due to hyperventilation and having everyone fuss over him was not his idea of a good time.

Kenma closed his eyes, linking his fingers together and holding them behind his head while standing straight. He had watched a boy who had slight asthma in his gym class do this claiming it opened up his diaphragm and made catching his breath easier. Kenma had adopted the practice when he felt his panic attacks starting to spiral out of control. He opened his eyes and mentally named everything he could see. Grass. Tree. Fence. Clouds. Stars. It was a tactic his mother had used with him when he was in elementary school. She would force him to focus on something other than his rapid breathing, or whatever it was that set him off. After he could successful tell her she would ask for him to identify colors. Kenma’s eyes swept his surroundings once more. Green. Brown. Black. Blue. Silver. Kenma let his arms fall to his sides and he leaned heavily against the wall behind him. He was able to calm himself down much quicker these days, thankfully. He knew Kuroo wouldn’t have minded if he texted him and told him he needed a little extra support, but having to tell him the reason  _ why _ had Kenma’s heart pounding once more. Clicking his tongue Kenma glared at the sky. He was pathetic. He gave himself a panic attack over something he did to  _ himself _ .

Kenma hesitated a moment before pulling his phone from his pocket, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

**✧OwlAce✧:** kiss n stuff

Kenma covered his mouth to stifle the choked sound he made despite being alone. He felt himself flushing beet red, feeling all too warm as his heart fluttered. He thought back to when Bokuto was babbling earlier and wondered if he would have said that out loud, or rather, yelled it in front of Kuroo and Akaashi. Kenma’s knees felt weak and he was so glad that Kuroo had interrupted him before that happened. He slid down the wall not minding the cool scrape of it against his burning flesh when his shirt rode up. Knees pressed against his chest Kenma wrapped his arms around them and stared down at his phone screen. He needed to answer carefully. He didn’t want to appear over eager in case this was some sort of weird joke. Kenma had no evidence that Bokuto would actually do something cruel like this, but he admittedly didn’t know the older boy that well. Kenma needed to set it up so that it was Bokuto that would make the first move. That way if he didn’t Kenma wouldn’t have to live with the humiliation of having tried to kiss someone. The thought made Kenma bury his face in his knees and whine low in his throat.

This couldn’t be a joke. Bokuto wanted to kiss him last night. He  _ admitted _ it. Bokuto was stupid but he didn’t seem mean. Kenma held his breath lifting his head and typing his reply with trembling hands.

  
**applepi:** prove it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tactic I wrote Kenma using to self manage a panic attack is one I use myself. If anyone of you felt uncomfortable, or would appreciate a tw in the future, please let me know!
> 
> New tags will be added next week. I'm not foreseeing a change in rating *yet* but I haven't finished the next chapter, so who knows? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thank you for reading! See you guys next week <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOOOOO~!!! Rating went up and new tags added, so check those out before reading (｡◝‿◜｡)

_ Prove it _ .

It was a bold move, one Kenma didn’t feel like he could have made under “normal” circumstances. It was one thing to state facts in a way that could be seen as needlessly rude, but telling Bokuto to prove that he actually wanted to kiss him was a whole different story. Asking anyone to  _ prove _ anything felt like posturing, a weird pissing contest between two idiots suffering from testosterone poisoning. Kenma avoided contests as much as he avoided pointless interactions with people. It was always embarrassing when Kuroo would provoke the other team during games and end up having his own little tournament. It was irritating when Lev pestered Tora for illogical face-offs to see who really is Nekoma’s ace. Annoying.

Kenma tried not to keep checking his phone as he made his way back to the temporary dorm. There were moments of phantom vibrations so he stopped checking it. He riffled through his bag and pulled out his hoodie. Despite how hot it got during the day, the nights weren't as balmy as Kenma would have liked. Pulling his hood over his head, Kenma zipped up and pocketed his hand held console before slinking out of the dorm once more. The free practices were close to ending so the hallways buzzed with chatter from players just returning or others mindlessly milling around until curfew. It felt too loud and stifling. Maybe the hoodie was a bad idea. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, subconsciously fisting his phone, Kenma directed his steps towards the stairs. After the day he had he felt like he deserved a calpis and some much needed alone time.

Bokuto’s words had burned into his memory like the feeling of his lips had imprinted on Kenma’s skin. Kenma breathed in a steady breath through his nose, exhaling slowly silently between parting lips in an attempt to stave of the stuttering of his heart. Did Bokuto’s admission mean that he was gay? Or was he bi, like Kuroo? Not like it really mattered to Kenma. He knew that sexuality was complex and not something that was black or white from the hours he spent pouring over forum threads trying to figure out what he  _ himself _ was. It was incredibly frustrating, and disheartening to discover he didn’t fit into any of the “usual” categories. When it came down to it, Kenma didn’t have sexual urges or romantic inclinations. Or at least that was how it was until recently. He experienced the usual morning wood and poorly timed hard on like any other teenage boy, but he would just ignore it until it went away. The only time he really masturbated was if he couldn’t fall asleep right away, finding the full body post orgasm exhaustion better than taking melatonin. There were no fascinations when he touched himself. Just his fingers finding the most sensitive parts of his dick and concentrating on the pleasurable shocks that rocketed through his veins.

Well, that’s how it used to be, before the scent of sweat made him salivate and made his head feel cottony. At one point he decided to label himself as asexual for the sake of communication. No one had ever asked him before, but he wanted to be prepared just in case. Having an answer was better than saying ‘I don’t know’. He couldn’t say that now because he no longer fit in those narrow parameters. If someone stopped Kenma right now on the stairs and asked him point blank what his sexuality was he would say it was Bokuto. Kenma tripped on the last step, almost quite literally stumbling over his own realization.

Kenma stalled for a moment to scrub his hands over his face in a vain attempt to will the heat from his cheeks. He felt bone weary all of a sudden. A sort of exhaustion that bleed into his brain and all he wanted was to find a quiet corner to hide in with a cold drink, and beat his high score in Ultimate Ghost’n Goblins. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one with that idea. Kenma surveyed the crowd around the vending machine, and debated if he really needed a drink or not.

“Megane-kun! Oi, Tsukishima! Tsukiiiii!”

Kuroo’s voice. Kenma swallowed against the lump in his throat. If Kuroo was here that means that free practice was over. Kenma turned his head slightly to peer down the hall. That middle blocker with the glasses from Karasuno wore an exasperated expression as he walked away from Kuroo leering from around the corner.

“Sorry~! Wrong number!” answered Tsukishima, his tone honied.

Kenma flicked his gaze to the crowd still in front of the vending machine and to the tall blonde as he passed in front of him. In order to avoid bumping into each other Kenma took a small step back, watching the way the middle blocker wiped his brow on on the back of his wrist. Despite himself Kenma inhaled. His brow furrowed as he watched the other boy take the stairs. It was obvious that he had exerted himself. His hair was damp from sweat, his shirt clinging to his back, and beads of sweat dripping down his neck. He looked like he _should_ _reek_ but instead Kenma could only pick up the very faint, soothing notes of chamomile. That’s it. No underlining musk of heated skin, or sourness of sweat. Kenma balked as he watched Tsukishima disappear from view as if he just used levitation to get to the second floor. Impossible. Annoying. _Impossibly annoying_.

Caught up in his deliberation if whether Tsukishima was actually subhuman or merely found the ultimate deodorant, Kenma missed when Kuroo and Bokuto appeared at his side.

“How can you be wearing a hoodie? It’s so frickin’ hot!” Kuroo boggled.

He reached up and tugged on one of Kenma’s hoodie strings, effectively scrunching up one side of his hood. Kenma clicked his tongue, glaring up at the taller boy as he tried to readjust the strings so that they were even once more.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve been jumping around.”

Kenma chanced a glance over at Bokuto who was staring at the vending machine like it was a particularly puzzling word problem on an exam with his hands at his hips. Kenma tore his eyes away from the tantalizing way Bokuto’s shirt stretched across his chest, clinging to his sweat slicked skin, fingers twitching in his pockets when Kuroo spoke again.

“You could practice blocking with us. Then you wouldn’t get cold.” Kuroo’s grin was telling. He knew his childhood friend would be opposed to practicing anymore than absolutely necessary.

“Don’t want to.” muttered Kenma.

Bokuto made a loud exasperated sound halfway between a groan and a shout drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the vicinity.

“I thought I’d imagined it yesterday but these selections SUCK!” He gripped, head tilted back slightly.

The annoyed expression he wore was one of Kenma’s favorite to view in profile. Brows pinched and drawn low over lidded eyes holding a piercing glare, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a grimacing frown. Kenma closed his eyes and sighed. Favorite. He had a  _ favorite _ expression of Bokuto’s. Heat crept up the back of Kenma’s neck, and he turned his head away slightly as he dropped his gaze to the floor.  _ Embarrassing _ . All things considering it shouldn’t be surprising that Bokuto would make a face that he liked the best, but that didn’t make it any less  _ embarrassing _ . Was this what having a crush was like?  _ Was _ this even a crush? Kenma didn’t want to hold hands with Bokuto or, god forbid, go out on dates with him. He just wanted to mouth at the sweaty nape of the ace’s neck, or press their bodies together so he could have Bokuto’s  _ smell _ mingle with his. A sickly slow heat warmed the insides of Kenma’s thighs and below his navel. He was positively, hopelessly,  _ disgusting _ .

“Yeah, aside from the milk it’s total garbage.” Kuroo sighed, folding his arms across his chest.

Kenma frowned at the floor. Kuroo had started to pay attention to nutrition during his last year of junior high after watching an interview with some Olympic hopeful, who apparently said they felt that they were able to play their best no matter what because they paid extra attention to what they were putting into their body. It made sense. Didn’t mean that Kenma had to adopt the philosophy. He never really had a particularly large appetite, but he didn’t out right eat what Kuroo called “garbage foods”. Kenma told Kuroo he should become a nutritionist then he could at least get paid when people ignored his advice.

“I think there’s another one on the other side of the main building.” Bokuto stated almost conspiratorially. “Kenma, let’s go look!”

Kenma lifted his gaze, eyes widening slightly when the taller boy leaned into his space. There was a glint to his sharp gaze that Kenma read as mischievous. His mind was sluggish to push past the initial shock of being asked to go with the ace in lieu of Kuroo.  _ Prove it _ . Kenma tunnel visioned on Bokuto, locking his gaze with his, searching. Bokuto didn’t text him back. He had the convenient excuse of free practice, but there was a large part of Kenma that wondered if he had called Bokuto on his bluff. Aside from the initial glimmer of mischief there was something sincere there, something eager. He felt Kuroo shift besides him, the bewildered sound he emitted slowly reaching Kenma’s ears like a recording that was previously slowed returning to its normal speed. He blinked when Bokuto reached out and grabbed him at the elbow.

“Don’t worry, Kuroo!” Bokuto was pulling Kenma away, waving a dismissive hand to the other captain. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t pollute his body!”

Kenma choked, slapping a hand over his face as he let Bokuto drag him down the hall. He was hyper aware of the Fukuroudani ace’s touch, the strength of it, and Kenma wished he could feel it against his bare skin. He could hear Kuroo sputter, clearly mystified by what he was witnessing. Bokuto was snickering as he released Kenma’s elbow, and he found that he had to walk a little more quickly to keep up with the taller boy’s long strides. Kenma shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, purposely keeping his head down and eyes ahead of him.

“He’s going to be suspicious.” said Kenma, feeling his face heat up.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to behave in this situation. Was he supposed to feign naivety? There wasn’t any concrete evidence that he was going to get the proof he all but demanded that Bokuto  _ actually _ meant what he said. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Bokuto didn’t seem phased. His stride was full of his usual confidence, partially lidded gaze intent on some goal only known to him, the corners of his mouth turned up with a smirk. Maybe Kenma was being too presumptuous, but it didn’t make what he said any less true. Kuroo  _ would _ be suspicious.

Bokuto chuckled, his reply an octave lower than his usual cadence. “Oh, he definitely is. He’s probably pestering Akaashi right now about it.”

_ Akaashi _ . The other setter was a loose end Kenma hadn’t considered before. It was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that Bokuto depended greatly on his vice captain. Kenma can recall a time when he idly wondered if maybe the two were romantically involved, but concluded that their relationship was more like unwieldy child and nanny. Besides, if Bokuto were  _ involved _ with Akaashi, he wouldn’t be here. Right? That didn’t mean that the ace couldn’t have confided in the setter about wanting to kiss Kenma. The thought left a chill down Kenma’s spine in its wake. Did Bokuto tell Akaashi about last night? About how Kenma pressed his face into Bokuto’s chest and how he  _ almost _ kissed Kenma? Kenma swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat. Did he tell the setter of all the times he supposedly  _ looked at  _ Kenma with something less than lechery? That was probably too strong a word.

Strong fingers wrapping around his bicep, and the rough tug of his hood being pulled off shocked Kenma into the present. Encompassed by his thoughts Kenma barely registered that the two of them had wandered into a deserted part of the school, nor did he have time to react when Bokuto dragged him into a dimly lit room. He sucked in a sharp breath as his back was pressed firmly against a wall, wide eyes unfocused when a warm mouth was pressed to his. Electricity ricocheted between synapses, and the slow heat that had stirred in Kenma’s loins burned hotter as his eyes fluttered shut. He had never kissed before, and he honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. Everywhere Bokuto was touching him felt hot; his fingers barely threaded in his hair at the base of his neck, his fingers curled around his arm, the heat radiating off his body. Bokuto’s lips were gentle and warm against his, the languid suck against Kenma’s bottom lip causing a full body shudder to tear through him. It was everything he wanted but painfully not enough. There was a small sound when their lips parted. Bokuto’s small laugh was warm against Kenma’s still tingling lips.

“M’sorry, I should have asked first.” Bokuto’s voice had a jagged edge to it. “I just couldn’t wait. Not after that text.”

Bokuto was so close and now that Kenma finally took a breath he caught a whiff of that heady scent. Cracking his eyes open Kenma met Bokuto’s glassy eyed stare. His irises were thin rings of molten gold around fathomless pupils blown wide. A small apologetic smile curved Bokuto’s mouth.

“I also probably reek. Sorry.”

He made to pull away and Kenma’s arms felt heavy as he lifted them to fist his hands into the front of Bokuto’s shirt. The last remaining tethers of his fraying self control snapped. Kenma told himself that it was okay, because Bokuto had kissed him, so he could indulge a little. Pushing himself on his tiptoes Kenma pressed his nose into Bokuto’s neck just beneath his jaw while pulling the taller boy flush against his body. He inhaled deeply, the sharp twang of sweat and the musky scent of everything that was Bokuto was so  _ strong _ this close that it made Kenma feel dizzy. His cock began to feel tight and full as blood rushed to his groin, and he didn’t even have the mental or emotional capacity to feel ashamed of himself.

“Nuh uh, you smell so  _ good _ .” Kenma breathed against Bokuto’s sticky skin. On impulse he ran the flat of his tongue up the column of his throat, and gave an experimental suck to Bokuto’s pulse point.

Bokuto’s skin tasted of salt and the very faint bitter bite of soap. Kenma could feel the growl that rumbled from deep within Bokuto’s chest. He felt short of breath and knew his face was flushed when Bokuto leaned back to cup his face in his hands. The grin that stretched across his face was positively  _ feral _ . Kenma swallowed against the whimper that bubbled from his throat. Tiny tremors radiated from Kenma’s core so that he trembled just slightly. Pure want coursed like a river through his veins and Kenma felt like he might just crumble apart if Bokuto didn’t kiss him again. Calloused thumbs brushed against Kenma’s cheekbones when Bokuto titled his face up.

“If you keep provoking me like that, I won’t be able to control myself.”

“Is that a promise?”

Kenma  wasn’t sure which would have shocked him more if he was capable of forming a coherent thought. The fact that he didn’t recognize his voice, wasn’t aware he was able to create such gravely tones, or that he spoke at all. In the fog of his brain Kenma thought that maybe he sounded needy, too expectant, but it was pushed out of his mind watching Bokuto’s eyes widened just a fraction and the grin on his face widen. Some part of his lust addled brain told Kenma that if he had any remaining reservations it no longer mattered because there was absolutely no way he was going to wriggle out of Bokuto’s grasp past this point.

The kiss that followed embodied all the same traits Bokuto displayed on the volleyball court. It was all control, and breathless power and  _ overwhelming _ . He pressed a thumb into Kenma’s mouth when he gasped for a breath, and pressed the digit firmly against his premolars to keep his mouth from closing. Kenma’s blood rushed in his ears and he moaned weakly when Bokuto’s demanding tongue filled his mouth. He was beyond hard now, and Kenma whimpered when Bokuto pressed his thigh between his legs and grinded  _ up _ . It felt so good and all Kenma’s body screamed for was more, more,  _ more _ . There was no time to feel ashamed about rolling his hips down to get more of that delicious friction. No time to feel self conscious of how sloppy he was at returning the fervent kiss, teeth clacking as he met each wet glide of Bokuto’s tongue with his own.

Just like on the court, Bokuto’s presence is overpowering and Kenma wants to  _ drown in him _ . He slides his hands over the taut muscles of Bokuto’s chest, maybe ghosting his thumbs over his hard nipples on purpose, and swallowing the keen that drips from the ace’s mouth. The air around them feels humid and sticky, and Kenma feels like he’s on fire when Bokuto dips his head to mouth wetly at his neck. His lungs burn like he’s been running for miles, his breath rushing past his lips as he tilts his head back to allow more access for that hungry mouth. Bokuto’s hands had wandered down Kenma’s sides, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt to press into fevered skin. The grip on his hips is tight and Bokuto uses the pressure to encourage him to roll his hips down firmer,  _ harder _ as they rut against each other like  _ goddamn animals _ . Kenma can feel the tell-tale hardness of Bokuto’s swollen sex against his hip, no doubt painfully confined in his compression shorts.

Kenma slides his fingers over the planes of Bokuto’s back, fingertips exploring the hard muscle there. Teeth graze against his jaw, and something inside Kenma twists. His arousal pushes past the peak he thought was the summit and envelops something carnal hidden deep within his psyche. He digs his fingernails into the fabric against Bokuto’s back and drags them down slow with purpose. He feels Bokuto tense, feels him stutter in their rhythm as he arches his back and throws his head back.

“ _ Fuck-!” _ the ace hisses.

He looks positively debauched, and all Kenma can do is stare open mouthed. Bokuto’s brows are twisted in pleasure, eyes closed as he draws his swollen red bottom lip between his teeth. There’s a bright blush spreading from high on his cheeks to his ears and his skin looks dewy. He looks so  _ fucking perfect _ and it’s Kenma that made him look this way. There is hardly any time for him to bask in his pride when the almost serene expression of pleasure filled blissed on Bokuto’s face is replaced by dark, untamed need.

“Holy shit…” Kenma whispers, shivering under the intensity of Bokuto’s gaze before their mouths crashed together.

It’s too much. Bokuto presses a broad hand against Kenma’s chest pinning him almost painfully against the wall. The kiss is relentless and leaves Kenma lightheaded by the lack of oxygen to his brain. Too much. He can’t tell if the sounds leaving his mouth are moans or whimpers, but he knows he moans at Bokuto’s satisfied hum against his mouth. Insistent fingers are pushing past the waistband of his shorts.  _ Too much _ . Kenma slaps a hand around Bokuto’s wrist, his grip firm but Bokuto strains against it. Clarity in the form of panic tears through Kenma’s arousal like scissors through paper. He isn’t ready for this, it’s just too much, he shouldn’t have pushed, shouldn’t have  _ provoked _ \--.

“I can’t!” gasped Kenma after finally breaking the kiss, turning his head away.

Bokuto’s panting breaths were hot across Kenma’s cheek, his hands immediately moving to cup the setter’s face again.

“M’sorry… sorry, sorry... I’m sorry.” Bokuto punctuated each apology with a kiss against Kenma’s face. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Kenma.”

Drawing his lip between his teeth, Kenma shut his eyes and gently slid his arms around Bokuto’s neck. His heart fluttering had nothing to do with the adrenaline leaving his veins but everything with Bokuto speaking his name breathlessly. The movement pressed their foreheads together and they breathed each other’s air in silence as the came back down. Kenma petted the soft hair at the base of the ace’s neck, absentmindedly twirling the short strands between his fingers. He wondered what would have happened if he had let Bokuto touch him. Would tonight have been a chaotic night of firsts for him? First the kiss that started chaste then quickly became sloppy makeouts complete with grinding, and would it have ended with him coming with Bokuto’s fist wrapped around his cock? Kenma shivered, his flagging erection twitching with interest at the thought. Bokuto’s lips brushed against Kenma’s, the movement too soft to be an actual kiss.

Kenma swallowed audibly, his voice barely a whisper, “It’s okay.”

This time he kissed Bokuto first. A hesitant fleeting press of his lips and he could feel him smile into it. Bokuto’s lips were unimaginable soft. The feel reminds him of the smooth skin of a ripe peach, a great contrast to how they felt on his skin the previous night. There is more confidence in the second kiss and Bokuto meets him halfway. It feels achingly intimate, more so than when Bokuto’s thigh was pressed against his groin, when his tongue was in his mouth and something swells in Kenma’s chest. It’s a dense knot of emotions and he doesn’t want to take the time to decipher it. Not when Bokuto’s finger tips brush the shell of his ear, sliding down his neck and curl over his shoulders. Each touch leaves a wake of tingling nerves and Kenma feels light, like he might float away if Bokuto wasn’t there to anchor him. He wonders if the ace also feels the same way, and Kenma almost asks when Bokuto breaks the kiss.

Their foreheads collided painfully when both boys jump at the sudden shrill of a cell phone alarm. Groaning Bokuto takes a step back and takes all the heat with him. Kenma rubs at the small knot already starting to form under his skin and glares at Bokuto’s phone when he fishes it from his pocket.

“Curfew.” groans Bokuto after silencing the alarm.

Oh. Right. Kenma’s knees feel weak when he leans away from the wall and he has to take a few steps to steady himself. It’s the first time he gets the chance to glance around the room, and mild horror seeps into his brain at the realization they’re in the nurse room.  _ Anyone _ could have walked in on them at any point, and the thought makes his palms sweat. He feels Bokuto’s gaze on him as he tugs his hood back on, taking the time to tuck his hair back, and he  _ almost _ asks the ace if he’s an exhibinionist but ultimately decides against it. It’s obvious their options were limited and he should feel grateful that the ace had the foresight to go somewhere away from the others.

“Hey.”

Kenma looks over at Bokuto, heart speeding up when the taller boy gentle brushes the back of his knuckles against Kenma’s cheek. His eyes flutter shut when Bokuto leans down pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. It makes Kenma shiver. He gasps softly when Bokuto’s thumbs at his bottom lip when he pulls back enough so that their noses touch. Blinking his eyes open Kenma meets Bokuto’s gaze and notes how clear it is now that his pupils have returned to a normal size considering the poor lighting.

“Do I get to kiss you again sometime?” the lit to Bokuto’s tone is teasing, but Kenma knows he’s being earnest and it makes him blush.

Despite himself Kenma’s brow creases, and he bites the inside of his cheek. Again? Like, Bokuto wants to kiss him  _ again, _ as in on a different day? Did Kenma himself even want to kiss Bokuto after today? It feels like he  _ should _ be sated after being enveloped in Bokuto’s masculine scent like a sweaty blanket, but now that Kenma actually thinks about it, everything else had been infinitely more distracting. He can still taste Bokuto on his tongue, his lips still buzzing with the memory of a firm mouth pressed against them. Kenma swallows, flicking his gaze to the side.

  
“If you want to.”  _ Because I do _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of feel like this chapter is toeing a fine line between T and M, but because of the little more than implied descriptions of masturbation and getting an erection I figured it would be safer to bump it up. /shruggs  
> I mean, it was bound to happen any so... /gestures vaguely
> 
> Thanks again for reading, friends!


	4. Chapter 4

There was a never time in his life that Kenma wanted to jerk off more than at this moment. He silently thanked the inventor of compression shorts to hide the fact that he’s been sporting a weird sort of swollen, half hard-on since what feels like the previous night. Touching himself surrounded by his teammates or hundreds of other strangers all crammed together was about as appealing as getting a papercut between each of his fingers. His hoodie smelt so much like Bokuto that Kenma had to shove it deep into his bag to keep from smothering himself in it while he humped his fist. Also to preserve the scent. Arousal had pooled warm and thick in his innermost thighs, an irritating sort of persistent hum that demanded friction throughout the whole day. Kenma was glad that Fukuroudani was using another gym for their practice today, because he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing Bokuto and not tell him he hoped he was also suffering.

Kenma wiped his mouth on the back of his hand after drinking deeply from his water bottle after they won their match against Karasuno. He watched Kageyama and Tsukishima yell at Hinata for getting sweat everywhere when he shook his head like a dog. A sympathetic sigh escaped Kenma’s lips, glancing at Lev who looked like he just got doused with a hose.  _ How does he sweat so much? _ Kenma blinks as Yaku presses a towel against Lev’s chest looking just as displeased and as disgusted as Kenma felt. His gaze narrows at how Yaku’s flushed cheeks from exertion brighten when Lev tells the libro ‘thanks for taking care of me’ in his usual bubbly inflection. Yaku turns his face away as he towels off his own neck, mumbling something Kenma can’t hear but he definitely looks more embarrassed than disgusted at this point. Kenma flicks his gaze to Lev who is completely undeterred and is already shouting something with Tora.

The hairs on Kenma’s arms stand up and finds his attention drawn to Fukunaga who appeared besides Yaku but is pointedly staring at the setter. Kenma raises his brows in silent questioning at the wing spiker, tracking how the boy flicks his gaze between Yaku and Lev before making a heart with his hands. Kenma slaps a hand over his mouth and turns away as a snort of laughter bursts past his lips.

“What is it?” asks Kuroo, straightening from stretching his hamstrings.

“Nothing.” Kenma replies, having to fully turn his back to the libro to keep from laughing. “Yaku has bad taste.”

The confused sound Kuroo makes has Kenma sputtering in a vain attempt to keep himself from laughing out loud. He looks up at his friend and watches him look over presumably at their libero. Kenma wasn’t sure why he found the possibility of Yaku having a crush on Lev funny. Yaku wasn’t tsundere, in fact, he was pretty open with his emotions in a way that Kenma found himself envious of. It was that fact that Kenma thought that maybe Yaku was interested in Karasuno’s vice-captain since he practically glowed whenever they spoke. Seeing Yaku  _ embarrassed _ by Lev, who had all the social graces of a tree stump, was positively mind boggling. If Yaku did harbor any feelings that were more than platonic for Sugawara it would be easy for Kenma to ignore. It was going to be hard to avoid whatever this  _ thing _ was with Lev, though. Especially now that Kenma couldn’t unsee it.

“What the hell is Fukunaga laughing about?!” Kuroo’s voice is slightly higher pitched in his incredulousness, and Kenma has to physically walk away to hold it together.

Picking up his cellphone Kenma’s heart did flips within his ribcage seeing the LINE notifications from Bokuto. Memories of warm lips, an even warmer tongue, and insistent fingers immediately rushed to the forefront of Kenma’s mind. He closed his eyes and tilted his back and exhaled slowly trying to will his body not direct the rest of his blood between his legs. Yaku and Lev had been a great distraction from his swollen extremity, but now the desire to touch himself, the  _ need to just fucking cum _ was tenacious.  _ God _ , he hoped Bokuto was also suffering.

Kenma crouched with his back against the wall and carefully balanced his water bottle in his lap as he swiped at his phone screen.

**✧OwlAce✧:** hey u kno wut sux

_ Your grammar _ , Kenma thinks.

**✧OwlAce✧:** that i cant look across the gym n c ur cute face

**✧OwlAce✧:** y do we have 2b in different gyms 2day

**✧OwlAce✧:** its more fun 2 think about kwsta when i can c u

It took a couple of moments for Kenma to figure out that ‘kwsta’ stood for ‘kiss with serious tongue action’, and it made him regret thinking that Yaku had bad taste when his own was pretty bad. Kenma dipped his head so his hair hid the blush spreading across his cheeks, and he had to bite his lips to prevent himself from grinning like an idiot. His fingers hovered over the screen in a brief moment of hesitation before he typed his response.

**applepi:** aren’t you supposed to be concentrating?

**applepi** : what sort of ace are you?

Kenma inhaled a steady breath through his nose hoping that Bokuto’s friendship with Kuroo had prepared him for copious amounts of sometimes-good-natured sarcasm. He really didn’t want to have to apologize to Akaashi later if he found out Bokuto went into emo mode because Kenma questioned his ace credibility.

**✧OwlAce✧:** UM

**✧OwlAce✧:** DA BEST OBVS

**✧OwlAce✧:** im just distracted iyf

**applepi:** how is it my fault

A thrill of excitement shot up Kenma’s spin and radiated into his limbs. There was a twinge of relief too at the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one still affected by the weird, sloppy dry humping of the previous night. Pressing his thighs together Kenma flinched both at the ebb of pleasure, and the painful ache of squeezing his genitals. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the pain, on the tell-tale twist of testicular related discomfort in his stomach starting to slowly form. This sensation was familiar territory, and it somehow grounded Kenma, redirecting his thoughts from cum, and mouths and hands not his own and-- His phone buzzing has him releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

**✧OwlAce✧:** i’m tau

Kenma scrubs a hand over his face and groans. Thinking about me,  _ well duh. _

**✧OwlAce✧:** n how i want 2 make u moan again

**✧OwlAce✧:** moan directly in2 my mouth actually

Kenma is pretty sure his face is the same shade of scarlet as his uniform judging by how much heat is emanating from his cheeks when he buries his face in his hands. It is some sort of miracle that kept Kenma’s heart from stopping dead under the weight of emotions currently fighting for dominance in his chest. Embarrassment was definitely intermingled there because he’s practically incapable of feeling anything else in regards to Bokuto this week. There’s also adrenaline and he feels  _ proud _ . His phone, which is balanced precariously between his stomach and water bottle in his lap, continues to vibrate away as Bokuto continues to rapid fire text him. The sound that dribbles past Kenma’s lips is almost a whine that’s choked off by the sudden dryness of his throat.

“Oi, you alright?” Kuroo asks, crouching in front of Kenma.

Kenma lifts his head only to let it fall back against the wall. He knows he must look pitiful. Sweat soaked and red faced, brows pinched and bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He watches Kuroo’s eyes widen a fraction as worry washes over his features.

Kuroo reaches out, pushing Kenma’s hair from his forehead to gently press the back of his wrist against his sweaty forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

Considering that it’s Kenma, he figures that’s a perfectly plausible assumption on Kuroo’s part. It had been a while since Kenma had gotten a fever from physical exertion, and he almost wished that he  _ did _ have one right now. It’d be easier than having to explain how he’s so mentally and emotionally unprepared for the dirty texts waiting for him unread on his phone. So he frowns, mumbling that he’s just too warm and doesn’t object when Kuroo takes his hands and hauls him to his feet. As he’s lead outside to the fountain Kenma feels guilt gnaw at his stomach. Kuroo is his best friend, and one of the most reliable people in his life aside from his parents. That being said he should  _ probably _ tell Kuroo that his first kiss was with his other, louder, annoying best friend. That’s what best friends did, right?

To Kenma, it felt like a weird trope for best friends to indulge in every secret,  _ especially _ those of the sexual kind. He didn’t see the appeal of giving explicit details or hearing about someone else’s relationship. Honestly, it felt gross. Like, let’s both get weirdly aroused together talking about how I got to second base with so-and-so. As he crouched besides the fountain watching Kuroo’s nimble fingers work the tap Kenma grimaced. They didn’t talk about stuff like that. Not really. Kenma only knew Kuroo wasn’t a virgin when Kuroo suddenly said he didn’t understand why people made it sound like such a big deal about losing it the previous year. He didn’t offer details and Kenma didn’t ask. The only thing that felt worth asking at the time was whether or not Kuroo had any regrets. Of course, since it was Kuroo, he just gave Kenma his trademark lopsided grin and simply said ‘not at all’.

The cool water was a pleasant shock to Kenma’s system when he stuck his head under the flow of the tap. He squeezed his eyes shut cupping his hand to splash the back of his neck. He couldn’t tell Kuroo about Bokuto. Not right now. Or maybe not ever. Kenma knew Kuroo wouldn’t think less of him. He might laugh and  _ definitely _ ask for details, and maybe asks questions Kenma wasn’t sure he would ever have the answers to. It felt unfair to Kuroo, but the anxiety gripping his chest told him ‘who cares’. It felt stupid since he didn’t have sex with Bokuto, it was just-- Kenma’s train of thought was derailed immediately. Sex with Bokuto.  _ Sex _ with  _ Bokuto _ . A full body shudder wracked through his body and Kenma’s weight shifted forward so the flow of water was directly on his neck. He was vaguely aware of Kuroo’s arm snaking around his waist to keep him from toppling face first into the tile.

That’s where it was leading wasn’t it? First it’s kissing, and then makeouts and then sex, right? It seemed like a logical enough order but it had Kenma screaming internally. His head started to ache from the cool water rushing over it, his hair wet curtains around his face. He knew he didn’t have to do anything more with Bokuto, and though the ace was certainly overzealous the previous night he respected Kenma’s wishes to stop. Maybe Kenma should tell him not to expect anything more than just grinding and kissing. Maybe he should tell Bokuto there would be no next time, no kiss for another day, no moaning directly into his mouth… The cooling embers between his thighs flared to life and Kenma sputtered a curse as he sat back on his heels.

“Feel better?” ask Kuroo, and he withdraws his arm.

“No…” Kenma mumbles as he pushes his damp hair from his face. The expanded width of his field of vision made him uncomfortable. With a heavy sigh he closes his eyes a moment before speaking. “I have a problem”

Glancing at Kuroo and trying to ignore how serious his expression is, Kenma tilts his head back and frowns at the sky. Waterdrops cling to the ends of his hair and a soft breeze makes his skin feel chilled under the wet collar of his t-shirt.

“I’m going to ask you something and if you make it into a big deal I’m never talking to you again.” Kenma drops his voice as he speaks quickly.

Kuroo snorts and Kenma can hear the smirk behind it. “Alright, shoot.”

“How do you…” Kenma’s voice sounds tight and he swallows against his dry throat. “Uh…”

Kenma slides his gaze to Kuroo then to the fountain, the sky and back to Kuroo who looks both confused and curious. Kenma presses his lips into a thin line as he makes an obscene hand gesture with his right fist. Something flashes in Kuroo’s eyes and he chokes on the laughs trying to force their way from his throat.

“Kenma-!” Kuroo laughs as he stares at the setter as if he just asked whether the sky was blue.

“ _ Shut up! _ ” Kenma hisses, feeling his face flush. “I know how, stupid, I meant here!” He gestures vaguely at the gym behind them.

Kuroo has a hand pressed to his mouth, eyes curved with his hidden smile as his shoulders shake with silent laughter. Kenma immediately regrets bringing the subject up.

“Ha! I’m sorry--” Kuroo snorts.

“You’re not.” Kenma’s frown deepens.

“Shut up, I am!” Kuroo chuckles as he rests his forearms on his thighs. “I’m just surprised.”

“Kuro…” Kenma groans while scrubbing his hands over his face. He expected this. They didn’t talk about this stuff, so of course Kuroo was going to react this way.

“There’s a few options but I can’t picture you doing any of them.” amusement drips from Kuroo’s words.

Kenma shoots Kuroo a glare, heat creeping up his neck. “Then don’t.”

“ _ You asked! _ ” Kuroo sputters around a sudden burst of laughter.

“Goodbye forever.”

The shouts of protest from Kenma when Kuroo lunged at him when he made to walk away drew the attention of the rest of their teammates so Kenma never did end up finding out what his options were for getting off. Kenma couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved. In the end he settled for disappointment when he could still smell Kuroo’s musk on him after they returned to the gym to start their last match of the day. He didn’t check his phone until free practice started and felt a rush at the number of unread messages from Bokuto. He had to put off reading them when Hinata bounded over to him and asked for tosses. His bright eager face was hard to say no too, but he didn’t have limitless stamina and ran away after only a mere 5 tosses.

The corridors were mercilessly empty when he headed toward the cafeteria and Kenma took the opportunity to read his messages. He was surprised to see notifications from Kuroo and opted to read it before Bokuto’s.

**Cpt.Claw-some:** u can b a pervert n wait until every1 is asleep but clean up will b a pain or

**Cpt.Claw-some:** u can jerk in the toilet ez clean up or

**Cpt.Claw-some:** u can just deal with blue balls for the last couple days or

**Cpt.Claw-some:** i can b a good friend and blow u ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭

Stopping frozen in his tracks Kenma re-read the last text nearly 75 times. His palms felt clammy and he swallowed against the lump in his throat. He knew Kuroo was teasing, but it didn’t stop a dull throb between Kenma’s legs. He tried to take a steadying breath to clear the images of Kuroo smirking up at him from between his thighs, because he  _ would be cocky that little shit _ . Gross. Kenma felt like he had a crust of dirt covering his skin and he bit his lip sharply. Thinking about Kuroo like that was strictly off limits. It had to be.

His thumbs trembled as he stabbed at the phone screen.

**applepi:** i hate you

He knew Kuroo would understand that he didn’t mean it. Kenma didn’t give himself time to stew on it as he opened the messages from Bokuto. They weren’t as lewd as Kenma had predicted, but it didn’t stop his nerves from tingling or his face heating up as he read over the words. Small phrases like ‘ur perfect’ and ‘felt so fucking gud’ and ‘i cant wait to kiss u again’ had Kenma’s heart leaping into his throat. The last message was a simple question and it made a cold shiver run down the length of his spine. Bokuto asked if he was Kenma’s first. First. The word was a heavy weight of anxiety and fraying nerves on his chest. It was the phrasing that made Kenma uncomfortable. If Bokuto had said ‘first kiss’ he didn’t think his fight-or-flight instincts would be kicking in so hard. He slowly typed out his response and admitted to having no experience. Chewing his bottom lip Kenma’s brows pinched as he stared at his response. It feels like Bokuto is more than a means to an end to what Kenma wished was just a stab of lust toward nothing in particular, and not a  _ first _ anything besides a kiss.

But Bokuto  _ is _ a first and Kenma’s stupid, annoying teenage lust  _ is pointed _ at him.

His stomach growling loudly spurred Kenma into motion toward his original destination. He feels exhausted and he just wants this week to be over so he can dissociate in peace. Navigating and dissecting feelings was just as troublesome as trying to interact with people for Kenma. He didn’t want to deal with any of this right now. Or ever. Dinner was blessedly uneventful and the bath wasn’t as crowded as it had been the last couple nights. Kenma let his towel hang over his head as he sat on his futon and poured all his focus into the game he had been neglecting. He felt the small tremors of his phone vibrating through the bedding and his eyes flick to it. Bokuto responded. Kenma’s heart leapt into his throat as he hastily finished the level he was on and saving to a new file slot because he was certain he had missed something. His phone continued to vibrate as he picked it up.

**✧OwlAce✧:** o shit

**✧OwlAce✧:** uh

**✧OwlAce✧:** r u ok???

Kenma frowned, lifting his eyes to the ceiling.  _ Was _ he okay? Okay with what, exactly? His base animal needs were clawing their way to the surface and upsetting his usual routines, and making him have inappropriate thoughts about nearly everyone so no. He was not “okay”. Heaving a sigh Kenma brought his eyes back to his phone screen. He knew Bokuto wasn’t referring to his mental dilemma.

**applepi:** you mean with last night? yeah, im okay

Not a lie. Kenma was perfectly okay with last night. He drummed his fingertips on the sides of his phone before continuing.

**applepi:** why? are you feeling guilty now?

**✧OwlAce✧:** a little

**applepi:** dont. if i didn’t want to do… things i wouldn’t have.

**applepi:** and you stopped when i asked so youre fine. don’t worry about it

There was consent in their mutual understanding of what they wanted from each other, at least Kenma thought so. Heat coiled tightly low in his stomach at the memory of Bokuto’s fingers trying to dip beneath his waistband the previous night. He had been persistent but he had stopped when Kenma said he couldn’t handle that. Bokuto’s profuse apologies that followed were laced with sincerity and a twinge of regret. Kenma blinked and quickly typed another response.

**applepi:** you’re not taking advantage of me either so stop thinking that

Kenma felt like he was talking Bokuto off some proverbial ledge. He wondered if this was how Akaashi felt like on a daily basis, and decided the boy needed to be sainted. Talking through text was infinitely easier for Kenma. Their conversation flowed freely with Bokuto insisting that Kenma call the shots, that he would do anything he wanted and it left Kenma feeling breathless. Carnal want was singing in his veins as he told Bokuto he wasn’t going to do anything one sided, reminding the older boy that it might take him 20 years to warm up but he takes everything into consideration. If Bokuto could be patient they could go further. Sparks of exhilaration danced across Kenma’s skin, impressed by his own boldness. It was easier in text. If he was having this conversation in person he was pretty sure he would die.

**✧OwlAce✧:** i wanna c u

Kenma’s heart leapt into his throat. He wanted to see Bokuto too. He wanted to test his own boundaries, wanted to taste the ace on his tongue and feel his firm grip on his hips. Gaze flicking up to the time Kenma frowned.

**applepie:** curfew is in 5 minutes

Disappointment gnawed at the edges of the excited anticipation that had been building in Kenma’s chest.

**✧OwlAce✧:** sneak out???

Kenma’s stomach did flips. He dug his portable charger from his bag and burrowed into his futon. Rolling onto his stomach Kenma folded his arms to pillow his head as his mind raced. Waking up in the middle of the night and sneaking out were two different sides of the same coin. If you left to go take a piss or get water and you were “caught” you’d be told to hurry and go back to bed with no ramifications. If you snuck out to, lets say, make-out with the ace from another team and got caught the consequences would make Kenma want to throw up. He think he might just from thinking about it. Kenma turned his head to watch Kuroo flick water from his hair at Inuoka. The problem wasn’t just getting caught, it was trying to navigate out of the room.

Kuroo was a heavy sleeper, as were Lev and Tora. The 3 of them took a solid 30 minutes to finally fall asleep but once they did Kenma knew thay’d stay asleep until morning. Fukunaga would fall asleep almost immediately but he slept lightly. Kai sometimes had insomnia but hadn’t complained about it yet this week, but that also didn’t mean that tonight the spiker wouldn’t be plagued with it. Burying his face in his arms Kenma heaved a sigh. If anyone was awake, or had woken up the night Kenma went to the vending machine no one had said anything. Being out of the room for 20 minutes wasn’t a big deal, so even if Fukunaga had woken up or Kai was awake it wouldn’t be suspicious. Kenma knew he would need more than 20 minutes tonight to sate this itch under his skin. Kuroo hissed at everyone to shut up as he switched off the light.

Listening to his teammates get comfortable on their futons Kenma curled on his side, pulling his blanket over his head as he poked at his phone screen.

**applepi:** i might need to get up in an hour to get a drink that doesn’t pollute my body

The implication was there but Kenma worried that it might be a little too vague for Bokuto to catch on. Anxiety trickled like a cold sweat down the back of his neck. They could get caught, or Bokuto would fall asleep and not show up, and right now Kenma didn’t know which was worse. Logic said getting caught was worse but Kenma didn’t really care for logic right now. Not with his dick throbbing between his thighs.

**✧OwlAce✧:** u kno wut

**✧OwlAce✧:** me 2

Kenma sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he smiled. He quickly set a silent alarm before shoving his phone under his pillow. He threw back his blanket feeling all together too warm and let his eyes flutter shut when the slightly cooler air of the room kissed his skin.

This would be one of the longest hours he’s ever had to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fukunaga and Kenma's friendship is my favorite thing right now <3
> 
> This chapter was so difficult to write _(┐「ε:)_  
> It wasn't necessarily the content, but I was juggling stuff at work and commissions.
> 
> New tags and rating change next week~!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop, increasing the the rating kids!

There was something undeniably eerie about places that were normally full of life in the middle of the night. Kenma rubbed at the back of his neck, his skin sticky under his fingertips as he gently padded down the moonlit hallway. He had started dozing off when the gentle buzzing of his phone jolted him back into complete consciousness. His heart had hammered hard against his ribcage with adrenaline when he quietly crawled out from under his blanket and tiptoed toward the door. Luckily it didn’t seem like anyone else was awake but Kenma did take extra care to slide the door closed as quietly as possible.

Kenma grabbed his chest just over his heart. He was  _ actually _ doing this. He was sneaking out past curfew to feed his base carnal needs like any stereotypical teenaged boy, and Kenma kind of hated himself for it. He slowed to a stop just at the top of the stairs and stared down into the dark thinly illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the high windows. A chill like cool water trickled down his spine while his palms began to sweat. Anxiety pressed heavily against his chest, forcing his breaths to come sharp and shallow. His arms felt like weights when he lifted them above his head and drew in slow, even breaths to stave off the impending attack. The combination of breaking curfew and the reason  _ why _ grating his nerves. Maybe he should just go back to the room, tell Bokuto in the morning that he fell asleep. Maybe that would upset the ace and that would be the end to whatever the  _ fuck _ this thing they started this week.

Right. After the camp was over so would be this weird tryst with Bokuto. Even if what Bokuto said was true, that he had been  _ looking _ at him for an indiscernible amount of time, Kenma was giving in and Bokuto could be content with that for the week. Nothing more beyond this week. Right? Kenma felt sick. He lowered his arms slowly, squeezing his stinging eyes shut. It was fine. It was better this way. Kenma wouldn’t have to see Bokuto everyday after this week, he could completely detach from the lust that tangled them together. The sound of the vending machine beeping and a bottle tumbling down made Kenma jump.  _ FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck!!! _ Kenma pressed his palms against his face and blew out a slow breath. He could still walk away, return to his room, pretend he hadn’t been trying to convince himself he was okay with whatever this was with Bokuto ending this week  _ because it was _ . Really. Truly. No doubt about it. It felt a little bit like defeat as Kenma trudged down the steps.

Kenma slowly dragged his eyes from the floor to where Bokuto stood bathed in the artificial light of the vending machine. His breath caught in his throat, eyes going wide as fire surged through his veins. Bokuto had a hand in his hair, holding the relaxed locks back as he drank. The light from the vending machine highlighted every swell of hard muscle poorly concealed by the tank top he must have slept in and Kenma’s hungry gaze devoured every patch of exposed skin. He felt transfixed as he slowly stepped over to the taller boy, eyes watching the bob of Bokuto’s Adam's apple as he swallowed. Kenma blinked when Bokuto’s eyes cracked open and he slid his gaze over to Kenma.

“We really need to stop meeting like this.” Bokuto chuckled, letting his hair fall into his eyes.

Kenma’s ears burned and he tensed, gaze flicking from the half empty bottle of water being pressed into his chest and Bokuto’s playful grin. Kenma knew it was joke, knew it was Bokuto trying to make a suave attempt at flirting and simultaneously lighten the mood. It didn’t stop Kenma from feeling self conscious. The crinkle of the plastic sounded too loud when he wrapped his fingers around the bottle. His eyes flicked over Bokuto’s face catching each minute change when their fingers touched. The ace looked pleased, eager, oddly younger with his hair not styled but still  _ infuriatingly  _ handsome.

Kenma frowned. “Shut up.” he mumbled before lifting the bottle to his lips.

He lets his eyes fall shut as he drinks, the cold glide of the water down his throat calming his burning nerves as he tilts his head back to drain the rest of the bottle. Kenma can sense Bokuto stepping closer, can feel the warmth radiating from the ace before his hand slips over Kenma’s hip. A spark of lust tickles the insides of Kenma’s thighs, igniting the hot rush of blood to his groin. It feels  _ so good _ when Bokuto touches him. Kenma swallows thickly, sliding his eyes open has he lowers the now empty bottle. Boktuo’s lips are curved with a smirk as he leans down to press a firm kiss against Kenma’s wet mouth. They each sigh at the contact, Kenma’s fingers of his free hand skirting over Bokuto’s forearm as he presses himself closer, seeking as much contact as possible. Kenma’s fingers don’t meet when they encircle Bokuto’s forearm near his elbow and it makes him shiver at how muscular the taller boy is.

Bokuto lips part over Kenma’s and a jolt of exhilaration spikes through him at the anticipation of Bokuto slipping his tongue into his mouth. His grip on the ace tightens as he tilts his head back expectantly. He wants to taste Bokuto, to melt against him at the slow sensual glide of their tongues. Kenma can  _ hear _ Bokuto grin as he lifts his chin so that his lips are just out of reach when Kenma pushes himself up onto his tiptoes in a vain attempt to capture them.  _ Annoying _ . Kenma huffs an irritated sigh and frowns up at Bokuto when he drops his heels. He almost calls Bokuto out for being a tease but thinks that it might stroke his ego too much. Plus, Kenma felt like it would be admitting to how needy he was right now. He takes a reluctant step back, forcing himself to appear unaffected as he drops the bottle into the recycling.

“C’mon.” Bokuto’s hand leaves Kenma’s hip in favor of linking their fingers together, and leading him down the hall. He looks incredibly smug which in turn has Kenma’s frown deepening.

Walking a step behind Bokuto, Kenma took the opportunity to let his gaze roam freely up the ropes of muscle of the ace’s arm. He wanted to map the curves with his fingertips, press into the firm flesh between Bokuto’s shoulder and neck before dragging his nails down the expanse of his back. Saliva filled Kenma’s mouth at the memory of Bokuto’s wrecked expression from the previous night. Kenma swallowed audibly. That expression was probably his new favorite. Kenma flicked his gaze up to Bokuto’s profile, watched him toss his head idly to get his hair out of his eyes. He pictured a flush painted across the ace’s cheekbones that reached his ears, imagined his skin dewy with sweat, his brows twisted in pleasure and Kenma subconsciously squeezed the fingers between his.

“Ah, this room will be perfect!” whispered Bokuto, amusement dripping from each syllable as he carefully slid the door open.

Kenma watched the ace curiously as he spun around and walked backward into the room, bringing Kenma’s fingers still linked with his up to his lips. A grin was split across his face as he pressed a chaste kiss against the slender digits. Suddenly feeling wary Kenma regarded the taller boy with suspicion before letting his eyes sweep around the darkened room. A baby grand piano loomed like a slumbering beast at the far end, and the moonlight coming through the one window without the currents drawn illuminated the desks against the walls.

Kenma, failing to see how this room was “perfect” aside from the fact that it wasn’t commonly used during the summer, gave Bokuto a questioning stare. “Why?”

Choking against a laugh, Bokuto’s eyes curved as his grin widened. “Because we’re gonna be making music!”

Horrible, joint constricting secondhand -or was it first hand?- embarrassment washed over Kenma. His hand returned to his side limply as he watched Bokuto press both of his broad hands against his mouth to stifle his laughter looking beyond pleased with himself at his bad pun. Kenma felt his face burn. The implication was enough to make his palms moist, to have his sleep shorts feeling a little too snug. Wordlessly Kenma turned away and took a step toward the door. Implication or not that pun was absolutely unforgivable. It was a Kuroo level of pun and Kenma just couldn’t handle anymore reminders of his best friend in sexually charged situations. Bokuto squawked behind him. Warmth encompassed Kenma as strong arms encircled his waist, pulling him against a firm chest.

“M’sorry m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry!” the words spilled quickly past Bokuto’s lips pressed into Kenma’s hair. “No more puns, I promise.”

Kenma shuddered as Bokuto’s scent washed over him. The heady notes had his eyes fluttering closed and pressing further back into the curve of Bokuto’s body behind his. Their height difference felt oddly comforting to Kenma. Bokuto was draped around him effortlessly, his hands easily reaching each of Kenma’s sides despite being cross over his waist. A small shuddered passed through Bokuto and radiating through Kenma. Kenma swallowed thickly feeling Bokuto’s fingers splay across his stomach when he dragged one hand agonizingly slow up to his sternum. His lips against the shell of Kenma’s ear had the setter shivering and tilting his head to expose his neck in a silent invitation. He has to draw his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from telling Bokuto to hurry, that he needed this - _ needed him _ \- all day. His cock feels heavy and full between his thighs and his fingers twitch with the desire to palm himself when Bokuto’s mouth finally touches his skin.

Under normal circumstances Kenma would be embarrassed by the whimper that tumbled out of his mouth when Bokuto sucked sharp and short against his skin. The skin tingled, oversensitive from the blood forced to the surface and Kenma flinches at the gentle scrape of teeth against it. His body his humming with pent up arousal. He can  _ feel _ Bokuto growing hard behind him, the steady swell of the ace’s cock pressing against his lower back as he sucks another sensitive mark into Kenma’s skin.

“B-Bokuto - _ ah _ \- no m-marks!” Kenma hisses, reluctantly lifting his shoulder to dislodge Bokuto’s greedy mouth from his skin.

“They’ll be gone by morning,” Bokuto hums. “I’ve got it down to a science.”

Something bitter twists inside Kenma and it feels shockingly similar to jealousy. It isn’t that Bokuto has more experience than him, that’d be a stupid thing to feel jealous about. Especially since Kenma wasn’t sure he had any sexual impulses residing inside him until this week. Kenma shivers as Bokuto slides a hand down his hip, turning his head to seek the ace’s mouth despite the awkward angle. No, Kenma could care less if Bokuto had just as less experience as he himself did. It was the idea of how many others before him had felt Bokuto’s calloused fingers against their skin, the swipe of his tongue in their mouths, been enveloped in his masculine musk that made Kenma feel uncharacteristically possessive. Kenma nips at Bokuto’s bottom lip, earning a pleased sound before a persistent tongue is pushing past his lips. The kiss is slow and sloppy and  _ perfect _ .

Bokuto hands grip Kenma’s hips as he rocks his own forward, grinding his hard-on against Kenma’s tailbone. The lewd implication has Kenma’s head spinning. If Bokuto had lowered his hips a mere fraction, or used his weight to bend Kenma forward his dick would be pressing against his crack through his shorts. Kenma shivers, fingers trembling as he gently intertwines them in the surprisingly soft strands of Bokuto’s hair. Just as Kenma thinks his neck can’t take any more of the awkward angle, Bokuto breaks their kiss to press wet kisses to his jaw, at the pulse point on his throat. He immediately misses the hands on his hips when Bokuto reaches up to tug Kenma’s shirt collar back to expose the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. His other hand roams restlessly up and down Kenma’s flank, fingers pressing into the small doughy patches of stubborn fat at his sides before sliding up to trace ribs. He feels the ace shudder, a huff of hot breath against his skin that Kenma almost interprets as annoyance. Especially when Bokuto is suddenly pulling away and leaving him shivering from the loss of warmth.

Dread is worming its way through the arousal coursing through Kenma’s nerves. Was Bokuto feeling impatient? Did he want Kenma to reciprocate more and was becoming annoyed that he was just a whimpering mess? Kenma bit the inside of his cheek. He blinks his eyes open, chest heaving with silent breaths as he turns around stiffly. A shiver slides down his spine followed by a bead of sweat at the look of hunger in Bokuto’s eyes sweeping over him. His mouth is open and Kenma can just barely hear the breaths that rush past.

“Can I touch you?” ask Bokuto, finally bringing his nearly black eyes to Kenma’s.

Kenma squints up at the taller boy, confusion seeping into his brain. “What?”

His gaze flick to the hand Bokuto raises to rub at the back of his neck. He looks  _ embarrassed _ by his request. A wrinkle forms in his forehead, bottom lip drawn between his teeth as his gaze skitter around the room before settling on Kenma’s face once more.

“Like… all over?” asks Bokuto.

Heat floods Kenma’s face, his shoulders tensing and creeping up to reach his ears. He stumbles over his words, tongue feeling heavy and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence.

“I know it’s a weird thing to ask but you’re just so…!” Bokuto says quickly, gesturing uselessly at Kenma.

“Stop pantomiming, this isn’t charades.” snaps Kenma, flinching a little at the bite in his own tone.

It’s a natural response when he’s feeling overwhelmed. He’s snapped enough times at Tora and Lev that his teammates have come to accept it. But Bokuto isn’t a teammate, and when he covers his face Kenma feels guilt wash over him like a cold downpour of rain. He’s about to apologize but stops at the muffled, frustrated whine Bokuto emits from behind his hands.

“I just really like how small you are!” Bokuto blurts out as he drops his hands to place them on his hips. His gaze is full of the same intensity he has before he spikes. Kenma thinks it clashes a bit with his hair falling into his eyes and the flush of his cheeks. “Not like  _ small _ small, but like next to me small. It’s not an insult, just a fact. A really hot fact. Like, you’re probably heavy because you definitely have muscle on ya, but I bet I could lift you easily.”

There’s parts of Kenma that are offended by Bokuto’s odd speech, but he also feels a little bit confused and flattered. He feels hot all over from a full body flush, staring wide eyed at the ace as he lifts a hand to push his hair back.

“And I-I’ve been thinking about,” Bokuto’s averts his gaze, embarrassment clear on his face. “Touching the inside of your thighs for months so…”

It’s all Kenma can take. If Bokuto breaths another word about  _ long _ he’s been thinking about him or what sort of  _ things _ he’s been thinking about he’s going to die.

“Sh-shut up! It’s fine, okay?” Kenma stumbles over the words, wiping his sweaty palms against his shorts. “J-just stop saying it out loud. It’s…  _ embarrassing _ …”

The last word is mumbled but in the silence of the night he knows Bokuto heard it from the slow smile spreading across his face. Kenma swallows thickly against the lump in his throat, frowning up at the ace as a soft husky chuckle rumbles from his throat. Kenma feels like he’s vibrating from anticipation when Bokuto steps back into his space.

“Kenma.” Bokuto’s voice is jagged, making Kenma’s stomach do flips from the arousal that floods between his legs. Bokuto’s thumbs brush his cheekbones when he cradles Kenma’s face with his warm, strong hands. “You’re so freakin’ cute.”

Any protests that Kenma could have made were immediately swallowed up by Bokuto’s mouth. Despite the gentleness of the kiss it still leaves Kenma feeling breathless. He gasps softly against Bokuto’s lips when the ace gently traces his fingertips down the lines of his throat. The calluses against his skin ignite Kenma’s nerves in pleasure that tingles in their wake. He presses up into their closed mouth kiss, tilting his head a little to allow room for their noses when Bokuto’s hands curl over his shoulders. He grips them firmly as he languidly licks at Kenma’s bottom lip coaxing his mouth open. Hesitantly Kenma lifts his hands to Bokuto’s hips when their tongues glide together. He sighs at the contact and dips his fingers under the hem of Bokuto’s tank top to press into the warm, toned muscle. The skin there is soft and Bokuto shivers when Kenma rubs his thumbs along the v of his hips.

Bokuto’s hands continue their descent down Kenma’s back, fingers pressing into the lean muscle through his shirt. The kiss is broken when Bokuto leans forward, his mouth rubbing wetly over Kenma’s cheek before he hooks his chin over his shoulder. There’s a question burning at the back of his throat, but before he can ask his answer is given by Bokuto’s hands testing the flesh of Kenma’s ass like a piece of ripe fruit. Blunt nails biting into Bokuto’s skin Kenma’s ears burn hot and he hides his face in Bokuto’s shoulder. It feels weird to have another person touching his body this intimately, and Kenma can’t decided if it's a  _ good _ weird or a  _ bad _ weird. Through his sleep shorts Bokuto slowly works Kenma’s ass in converging circles.

“So fucking  _ perfect _ .” Bokuto whispers breathlessly, making a shiver travel up Kenma’s spine.

A whimper tumbles passed Kenma’s lip. Perfect? He fails to see how his body could be associated with the word, especially next to Bokuto who is the very definition of male beauty standards. Bokuto’s skin feels sticky against Kenma’s cheek as it heats up, his natural musk growing stronger. A natural rhythm is drawn out of Kenma from the kneading of Bokuto’s hands. His hips sway with each push and pull, his eyes fluttering shut. It feels  _ good _ . There’s a part of Kenma that wishes Bokuto would slide his hands under the waistband and touch him skin to skin. The thought leaves him feeling dizzy, his mouth watering. Bokuto mumbles something that Kenma can’t quite hear over the blood rushing in his ears. He’s able to choke back the whine of protest when Bokuto’s hands leave him when he takes a step back. Kenma shivers, glancing up at Bokuto through his lashes when the ace sidles behind him, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. There’s a few uncertain steps backwards before Bokuto is pulling Kenma to sit in his lap, the chair creaking under their combined weight.

It’s awkward for more reasons than one. Kenma tenses feeling Bokuto’s swollen cock press against the cleft of his ass, and he subconsciously resists against the ace’s arms around his chest when they gently try to pull him back.

“Here, lean back.” Bokuto shifts a little under Kenma’s weight, his words ghosting over Kenma’s neck making him shiver.

Kenma squeezes his eyes shut, legs trembling from the awkward position of perching himself over Bokuto’s hips. “I’m gonna crush it…”

He frowns at Bokuto when he sputters a laugh, hooking his chin over Kenma’s shoulder as he coaxes him to relax.

“It’s fine, dude.” replied Bokuto, amusement clear in his tone. “Just - _ ah- _ lean back and - _ mnh- _ put your legs over mine. Yeah, just like that.”

The position leaves Kenma practically spread eagled, his knees hooked over Bokuto’s thighs spread open. If they were closer in height Kenma knew they wouldn’t be able to pull off such a lewd position, and he has to press his palms against his face to distract himself from Bokuto’s dick twitching underneath him. The ace wastes no time skirting his fingers over the crest of Kenma’s rib cage and up his chest. His thick fingers press firmly against Kenma’s pectorals. Bokuto cups and gropes the flesh, index fingers flicking over Kenma’s nipples and making the setter arch into the touch with a keen. A moist, hot breath is huffed against Kenma’s neck before Bokuto nips gentle at the skin. Kenma pants opened mouth, eyes screwed shut as his nerves tingle with pleasure left in the wake of Bokuto’s fingers. He’s burning up from the inside out. He thinks about how good Bokuto’s fingers pressing against his bare chest would feel, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle the wanton sound that slips past his lips.

He flinches, choking on a groan at a particular sharp pinch of his aching nipples. The pain was laced so tightly with pleasure that Kenma almost whimpers for more. He does whimper when those probing fingers descend to glide across his flutter stomach. Kenma can feel the smirk of Bokuto’s mouth against his neck, and it’s becoming really hard to think when Bokuto runs the flat of his tongue up his neck to nip at his earlobe. His hips involuntarily twitch up when Bokuto’s fingers slide dangerously cross to his groin when they move over his hips. Kenma cracks his eyes open to look down his body at Bokuto’s hands moving back and forth along his thighs, fingers dimpling the flesh. The groan leaving Bokuto’s throat has a desperate edge. He swears under his breath, his grip becoming almost painful when he stops to grab the meaty insides of Kenma’s inner most thighs. Kenma is trembling. It feels so good. His skin swelling up between Bokuto’s fingers  _ looks _ good and Bokuto’s thumbs are  _ agonizingly _ close to touching his privates has him silently pleading.

Bokuto is rock hard beneath him, his breath rushing past his lips as he pants against Kenma’s ear, “Can I--.”

Kenma doesn’t wait for Bokuto finish before he’s nodding vigorously. “T-touch me!”

They share a sigh and a shudder when Bokuto slides his hands the rest of the way to cup Kenma through his shorts. Bokuto shifts beneath Kenma, head turning to no doubt to get a look at his large hands easily dwarfing Kenma’s genitals beneath them. Kenma has to press both hands to his mouth, tears burning the back of his eyes at the strange relief of finally having his dick touched. It feels like cotton has replaced his brain, limbs heavy, fire coursing through his veins as he watches Bokuto slide his thumbs along his fattening length.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Bokuto breaths, one hand dipping lower to gently knead at Kenma’s balls. “So,  _ so good _ , Kenma.”

Kenma squeezes his eyes shut both at the praise and the sight of his own cock growing from hard-on to full straining erection under Bokuto’s ministrations is just  _ too much _ . It feels better than all the times Kenma has touched himself alone. He also feels oddly vulnerable and he instinctively moves to close his legs only to have Bokuto widen his own to keep them spread open. Kenma curses behind his hands at a particular firm press of Bokuto’s palm and finds himself rocking his hips up seeking more of that delicious friction. The satisfied hum from Bokuto has a coil starting to tighten behind his navel.

“Did you like that?” whispers Bokuto. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s grinding his palm down with intent, drawing a choked off groan out of Kenma. “You fit so perfectly in my hands.”

Bokuto’s fingers wrap around Kenma’s cock as much as possible through his shorts and matches his strokes with the setter’s hips rocking upward. There’s no room for thoughts of embarrassment, self-loathing, or anything besides the word ‘cum’ ricocheting inside Kenma’s skull. He feels like he’s falling, his muscles tensing, groans and whimpers barely caught by his fingers over his mouth. Precum oozes from his slit, soaking his underwear. Kenma feels Bokuto shudder beneath him, feels him start his own rhythm of grinding up against Kenma’s ass.

“You’re s’good, baby...” Bokuto’s voice sounds cracked open, one hand fisting Kenma’s balls almost the point of pain while the other steadily picks up the pace of his strokes. The term of endearment  “Look at how hard you are, so  _ fucking hot _ like this.”

It takes everything within Kenma not to shoot his load at Bokuto calling him ‘baby’. The blush blooming across his face has nothing to do with his cock in Bokuto’s fist but everything to do with wanting Bokuto call him  _ that _ again. He wants to cum  _ so badly _ but suddenly Kuroo’s texts from earlier from are flashing behind his eyes and before he can stop himself his hands are flying down to  grip each of Bokuto’s wrists.

“ _ Blow me! _ ” Kenma blurts out.

Bokuto freezes and it's then that Kenma realizes how the ace’s chest is heaving. A hiss slips past Kenma’s lips when Bokuto finally moves, untangling their legs and turning Kenma to face him. The flush covering Bokuto’s face is splotchy, brighter in some places than others. There’s a crease between his brows, and his eyes are all pupil as he searches Kenma’s face.

“Are you sure?” the softness of Bokuto’s question is a little surprising to Kenma.

Frustration is spiking up his spine, throbbing with the arousal in his veins. The idea of having to go another day without getting off makes Kenma want to scream. He doesn’t think he has been so sure of anything in his life.

He holds Bokuto’s gaze with an unwavering confidence he doesn’t know he had in him, and it feels a little bit misplaced by the whine in his voice, “Bokuto, please make me cum.”

The moment the last word leaves his mouth a series of rapid movements follow leaving Kenma feeling dizzy and a little more than breathless. He’s pretty sure whatever self control Bokuto had had snapped, propelling him out of the chair, hands gripping the back of Kenma’s thighs as he lifts him effortlessly. Kenma feels like he barely had time to wrap his limbs around the ace before he’s being deposited with little grace on top of a desk. Bokuto crashes their mouths together as he tugs Kenma’s shorts and underwear down to his knees. Kenma’s voice cracks around his moan against Bokuto’s lips when he finally gets the skin-to-skin contact he’s been craving. Bokuto’s hand is  _ hot _ and feels  _ amazing _ , thumb swiping through the sticky precum beading at the slit of the head of his cock. Kenma’s hands tremble as he cards his fingers through Boktuo’s hair, pushing it from his face. He begs Bokuto to hurry. The word tumbles past his lips a repeated plea, hands gripping soft locks between his fingers as Bokuto sinks obediently between his knees.

A strange sound, something crossed between a whimper and a growl, tears from Bokuto’s throat as his hands find Kenma’s hips. Kenma squeezes his eyes shut as a violent tremor wracked through his body, back arching, hands fisting tightly in Bokuto’s hair when his cock is engulfed in a  _ hot, wet _ mouth. He doesn’t recognize the guttural groan leaving his mouth as his own when Bokuto presses his tongue against the underside of his cock. He sinks deeper, tongue cradling the weight of his shaft and Kenma is  _ pretty sure _ he just bumped the back of Bokuto’s throat. The ace doesn’t leave Kenma time to get accustomed to the new sensations prickling at his nerves. His pace is fast, almost like he’s as desperate to get Kenma to cum as much as Kenma wants to himself.

Bokuto’s mouth is  _ wet _ , and  _ soft _ , and  _ hot _ and Kenma knows he isn’t going to last. A particularly loud moan has Bokuto reaching up to press his fingers against Kenma’s panting mouth. A spark of dread courses through Kenma but is quickly fizzled out by the vibrations tickling his balls from Bokuto  _ humming  _ with his cock in his mouth. Every muscle in Kenma’s body tenses. It feels like time slows, hands feeling like they’re made of lead as he releases Bokuto’s hair to press over his mouth, lungs burning from the breath he’s holding. Bokuto’s nose is pressed into the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, and when he pushes his tongue further out the head of Kenma’s cock slips into his throat and Bokuto  _ swallows _ .

The effortlessness behind Bokuto’s ability to deep throat Kenma without so much of a gag and the snug, wet warmth contracting around his cock is what finally pushes Kenma over the edge. Stars flash behind his eyes, tears cascading over his cheeks as all the tension leaves his body at once. His orgasm tears through him with such intensity he’s screaming, or sobbing, or maybe both behind his hand. Bokuto winds his arms around Kenma’s jerking hips, throat working to swallow down all of Kenma’s release without dislodging his cock. It feels like his orgasm last for ages, the waves of it rising and crashing over and over and by the time Bokuto is pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of Kenma’s thigh he feels like he might fall into a coma from how spent he feels.

Kenma’s vision is blurry from his tears of pleasure when he finally opens his eyes. Bokuto’s eyes are curved with the smile hiding behind the hand he’s using to wipe his mouth as he gazes up at the setter.

“You just came down my throat.” snickers Bokuto.

Kenma frowns as he awkwardly pulls his shorts back over his hips and he mumbles an apology. The look Bokuto gives him is soft and Kenma isn’t sure if he likes it or not. He feels too sleepy to care. Bokuto flinches as he pushes himself to his feet and Kenma’s eyes immediately drop to the ace’s cock straining against his shorts. His hands move of their own accord to tug both waistbands away and slip inside. Bokuto sputters, stumbling forward a step as Kenma’s fingers work to pull his cock free with as much finesse as a blind painter. Kenma feels his cheeks flush at the weight of Bokuto’s cock in his palm, eyes narrowing at its width when his fingers fail to meet when he tries to encircle it.

“Why is everything about you so  _ thick? _ ” mumbles Kenma, giving an experimental tug.

Bokuto has to cover his mouth to stifle the surprised laugh bubbling up from his chest. “Oh my  _ god _ , Kenma!”

The corners of Kenma’s mouth tug up into a small smile, tilting his head back as he lifts his gaze to Bokuto’s. In the pale moonlight Kenma can still make out just how dark his cheeks are, and how the blush travels down his neck. He closes his eyes for a brief moment when Bokuto reaches out to cradle his face, and jolt of renewed arousal spikes up his spine at the soft moan he draws from the ace with a twist of his wrist. He frowns and leans away slightly when Bokuto tries to kiss him.

“My dick was in your mouth.” Kenma says in response to Bokuto’s questioning look.

A toothy smirk splits the ace’s face, his cock surging in Kenma’s hand.

“Yeah, your cum was too.” Bokuto’s voice is husky and Kenma can’t find it in himself to resist any further.

He was prepared for some unpleasant taste to fill his mouth when Bokuto’s tongue swiped against his, but Kenma found that he didn’t hate the salty, slightly gamy taste of himself on Bokuto’s tongue. The kiss immediately deepened, Kenma’s free hand fisting the front of Bokuto’s tank top as he pumped short quick shorts over the head of the ace’s cock. Bokuto shuddered as he moaned against Kenma’s mouth as he gingerly wrapped his hand around Kenma’s on his dick. Kenma breathed through his mouth when Bokuto broke their kiss, sharp eyes watching as the ace spat a thick glob of saliva against the length of his cock. Kenma felt his eyes widen, gaze flicking from his fist moving with Bokuto’s to spread the slick around and up to Bokuto’s hungry gaze.

“Wanna make me cum?” Bokuto’s words are breathless, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth.

For the briefest of moments Kenma thinks Bokuto’s question is stupid. He notes the way Bokuto’s fingers press against his as they work to get him off together. It could almost be interpreted as random twitches from pleasure, but Kenma is able to pick up on where and when the pressure is aligned. Bokuto is definitely  _ teaching _ Kenma on  _ how  _ to get him to cum, and Kenma swallows thickly before responding.

“Many times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the first scenes I thought of when I first started this fic and I'm glad I finally got to write it but JESUS CHRIST was it difficult. I don't know why I struggled so much but here it is! /lays down


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short and I apologize.

It was sweltering in the cramped supply closet. The air was heavy with the sound of panting breathes, and  _ reeked _ of sweat. Kenma’s hair is stuck to the sides of his face, the back of his neck, to the skin of Bokuto’s inner thigh. It had taken some work to peel the ace’s kneepad down to pool around his ankle. Ruddy lines from where Kenma’s blunt nails had accidently pressed too hard in his eagerness marked Bokuto’s strong, powerful thighs. Kenma sighed, mouth and breath hot against Bokuto’s bare knee. He was kneeling between the older boy’s bent legs, spread obscenely wide. Kenma turned his head as he dragged his gaze up the length of Bokuto’s body to his flushed faced. Bokuto was leaning against gymnastic mats piled up, his arms folded behind his head as he watched Kenma with heavy lidded, hazy pupil blown eyes. A smirk tugged up the corners of his mouth, a shuddering sigh passing through his lips as Kenma dipped his fingers into the sweat drenched pit behind the ace’s knee.

They were both thrumming with adrenaline from matches previously played. Kenma locked his gaze with Bokuto’s as he pressed his fingers not softly into the supple skin, sweeping the pads of his fingers through the sweat before bringing them to his lips. Bokuto’s eyes dropped to Kenma’s mouth when he slid the digits into his mouth, sucking the bitter salty taste from them. A sound like a chuckle caught with a whimpered huffed past Bokuto’s lips. It was gross, if Kenma was being honest. A thin thread of spit connected his mouth to his fingers when he pulled them away. Both of them were absolutely drenched in sweat, the confines of the humid room not helping, and they both  _ stink _ . Like, terribly. Kenma shifted as he leaned down to press an opened mouth to the inside of Bokuto’s thigh, eyelids fluttering shut. He blindly reached out to the opposite thigh, sliding his fingers over the course material of the knee pad. He pressed his palm against the curve if the muscle as he pushed the hem of Bokuto’s shorts back, feeling the ace’s hips twitch when his hand stopped just before the older boy’s groin.

Mouth mapping the planes of muscle beneath Bokuto’s heated skin Kenma felt dizzy from the scent of Bokuto’s heated skin. The natural faint notes of clove and cardamom drew him closer to wear the taller boy’s thigh met his hip. It was unbelievably warm there, the smell stronger and muskier. His mouth was watering, his cheeks flushing as he pressed his nose into Bokuto’s crotch. The ace’s hips jumped, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat as Kenma inhaled deeply. Bokuto was hard against Kenma’s cheek as the setter shivered, hands reaching up to slide under Bokuto’s shirt to run through the sweat between his obliques. 

“ _ Ffffuck _ babe!” Bokuto whispers.

The term of endearment has blood rushing between Kenma’s legs. He can feel Bokuto shifting, trying to sit up. Kenma pressed his hands against the ace’s stomach, using it to push himself up and keep Bokuto in place.

“I said stay,” Kenma breathed, pulling Bokuto’s shirt up to his chest. “You got to touch me before.”

He flicks his gaze up to Bokuto’s face, taking in how his forehead is wrinkled, eyes silently pleading with his bottom lip blanching between his teeth. Beneath the pads of his fingers he can feel the older boy trembling, can almost feel the lust and desire running like a current beneath his skin.

“You have no  _ idea _ how fuckin’ hot you are right now.” Bokuto blurts out, a pout over taking his features. “It isn’t fair that I can’t touch you.”

The sullen tone makes Kenma quirk a brow. “Don’t pout.”

Kenma closes his eyes as he bends to kiss Bokuto’s belly, feeling it fluctuate when Bokuto tells him he isn’t pouting. He kisses the length of each valley between the muscles there, tongue darting out to taste the sweat there. Nuzzling his way up to the ace’s chest Kenma gropes at Bokuto’s chest.

“ _ Mmm yeah _ .” Bokuto sighs, arching his back to press more of his chest into Kenma’s hands. “You’re hands feel so good.”

The last syllable is a grunt as Kenma shifts his weights to his hands as he climbs to sit on Bokuto’s hips. Through his lashes he watches Bokuto suck his bottom lip between his teeth, his arms flinching as he restrains himself from reaching for the smaller boy. Kenma rolls his hips back experimentally while pressing the heels of his palms into the firm muscle of Bokuto’s pectorals. He watches the crease between the ace’s brows deepen as they twist in pleasure, eyelids fluttering as he presses his lips together to stifle his groan. The insides of Kenma’s thighs are sticking to Bokuto’s skin where they’re touching. He swallows thickly before wetting his dry lips, hands working Bokuto’s chest in a steady rhythm of kneading circles. He doesn’t stop when Bokuto lets his arms return to his sides.

The action presses the muscles together, forming a supple cleavage that Kenma’s fingers immediately explore. He easily slides his thumbs in the sweat slick valley. Bokuto’s skin is hot, and smooth and Kenma wants to touch every inch of it. It’s… perfect. Bokuto had called Kenma perfect plenty of times, and it still left him confused and questioning. Kenma frowns at Bokuto walking his fingers up his thighs, a challenging grin splitting his face.

“You don’t take direction very well.” mutters Kenma.

“I’m not touching you.” Bokuto’s grin widens, trailing the calloused pads of his fingers along the insides of Kenma’s thighs.

A shiver travels the length of Kenma’s spine at the touches. He closes his eyes for a brief moment as he huffs out a sigh. He knows Bokuto is trying to be playful and flirt, and Kenma knows it’s more than appropriate given their situation. The logistics doesn’t stop Kenma from feeling a tad irritated at the childishness. He’s witness Kuroo and Bokuto plenty of times hover their fingers inches from each other's sides, grinning at each other as they chant ‘I’m not touching you’ until one inevitably gives in and jabs their finger painfully into the other’s ribs. It’s stupid. Kenma thumbs over Bokuto’s nipples, eyes cracking open as he coaxes the flesh to pebble. He watches something dark and predatory flash in Bokuto’s eyes as he growls lowly in his throat.

Kenma hums, pressing the nubs against the sides of his index finger. “Is… Does it…” Kenma’s gaze skirts around as his blush bleeds down his neck. “Do you like… that?”

The last word is barely audible as Kenma’s voice trails off, frowning at the smug expression smearing across Bokuto’s face. The ace winds his arms around Kenma’s small frame as he sits up, abdominal muscles flexing from the action. When Kenma stretches his legs to drape around Bokuto’s hips the action presses their crotches together eliciting a shuddering gasp from each boy.

“You’re terrible at a dirty talk.” Bokuto chuckles breathlessly against the corner of Kenma’s mouth.

Kenma can feel Bokuto’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. He pinches Bokuto’s nipples firmly, a whimper tumbling from the older boys lips and he rocks his hips forward. A soft breathless moan escapes Kenma’s lips at the press of their confined hard-ons against each other.

“You d-do enough for both of us s-so…” mumbles Kenma.

The look Bokuto gives him is soft, a small smile tugging at his lips. There’s something hidden in his gaze and it makes Kenma feel a little uncomfortable. He wants to analyze it, to pick apart any hidden meaning, to understand what that softness  _ means _ . Bokuto shutting his eyes and mumbling for him to ‘do that again’ against his lips prevents that. Kenma kisses Bokuto like a starved man, fingers tweaking, pinching and rolling the sensitive nubs. He swallows every keen and wanton sound that leaves Bokuto’s mouth as their hips grind together in a steady rhythm. The action is so implicant and lewd and each press of Bokuto’s sex pressed against his leaves Kenma reeling. He doesn’t resist when Bokuto guides him to wrap his legs around his hips. Kenma doesn’t resist when Bokuto pins him against the floor, mouth devouring and hips pressing firmly.

Being encompassed by Bokuto’s heat and scent felt a little like drowning. Hours later Kenma would still smell the ace on him, feel his fingers dimpling his flesh, the tingle of lips against his.  Kenma would also spend the rest of the day thinking about that  _ look _ and what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! I might have to push back when the final chapter is posted to two weeks from today. I recently was invited to take part in the biggest project of my art career to date, so I need to concentrate on that. There's links to my tumblr on my profile page if you want to follow my journey :3
> 
> Thanks for reading so far <3


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